


Doves and Arrows

by Anonymous_Astronaut



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Slow Burn, Trauma, protective RED team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 71,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23886154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Astronaut/pseuds/Anonymous_Astronaut
Summary: It all started when he was saved by the last person he expected, for reasons he couldn't begin to fathom. Sniper's life begins to dissolve into chaos, but maybe something can rise from the ashes?
Relationships: Heavy/Medic (Team Fortress 2) if you squint, Medic/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 179
Kudos: 277





	1. Line of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Many locations are based on in game maps, so I'll indicate which one at the beginning of chapters when it applies. The mercs are a bit younger than cannon, think early 30's for most of them (early 20's for scouts.) Most of it is pretty violent but I'll put specific triggers before more intense chapters just in case. I'll be adding songs for each chapter that I think go well with the vibe or inspired me.This is my first fic by the way, so hello. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Harvest. The song for this chapter is Mercy Down by Shayfer James. The first two or three chapters switch back and forth with POV a lot, I promise it's not so jarring in later chapters.

The whirring sound of machine gun fire stuttered to a halt, followed by weighty silence. Far above, a weather beaten sniper's eyes widened in realization as he heard the gun below go quiet. He pivoted, yanking his rifle out of the window to hold it vertically at his side and press his back to the frame, trying to stay hidden behind the small section of wall between the two windows. He cursed under his breath. At the distinct lack of Heavy’s machine gun whirring, he could be certain he was the only member of the RED team left alive. The enemy's attention would be solely on him. He could see the blue laser sight of the enemy sniper on the hard wood wall opposite him, searching for his head. He took a deep breath, spun out from behind cover quickly and raised his rifle, aiming at the identical window across the battlefield in the hopes of catching his double by surprise. His scope found empty space. A shot that wasn’t his rang out. He didn't even see where it came from. 

Something tore into his lower torso, igniting the area just below his left rib cage into burning pain. His legs gave out and he buckled backwards, gasping curses, rifle clattering to the ground. One hand went to his stomach and the other reached behind to catch him heavily as he fell. 

Crabbing backward with his right hand and feet, the marksman backed himself painfully into the corner of his small sniping nest where he knew he couldn't be spotted and shot at from the field, and tried to sit himself up against the wall. Once situated, he drew his kukri with his right hand and held it in a sweaty grip out in front of him, teeth bared in pain and as a treat to intruders. Not that he would be a very agile fighter in this state, but he wasn't going to just sit there and be slaughtered if someone did encroach on his nest. His eyes darted to the doorway leading to the stairs, chest heaving. He knew there was a medpack nearby but he didn't think he could get to it, not like this. He'd have to wait and until he died or for someone come up to his relatively unfrequented nest. If it was a friend, they could get him to the medpack. If not, well, at least it would be faster than this.

His left hand pressed firmly but painfully to the wound, dark blood trickling out from between his fingers. He tried his best to stay quiet, biting his tongue to keep from crying out, but each breath he took was a painful gasp. He leaned his head back against the wall and hissed exhales through clenched teeth, slowly bleeding out into the dust floorboards.

The moderately injured pyro (covered in bright blood splatters against their blue rubber suit) suddenly decided that charging wildly at the enemy building was an excellent idea, paying little mind to the battered BLU medic that was attempting to heal them. As the angry little firebug lumbered toward the wooden structure, their faithful field doctor had no choice but to follow, unless he fancied being left out in the open on his own with nothing but a bone saw and a few syringes. He decided it was better to follow the person ( _thing? _) with the flamethrower.__

____The pair had hardy taken one step though the doorway when they were met with a fresh, recently respawned RED pyro who made quick work of their already injured BLU double. The BLU didn't go down without a fight though, and the remaining medic was able to finish the enemy off with a few shots from his syringe gun, escaping with only some minor burns._ _ _ _

____But now he was alone. In the enemy building, down to a few syringes and his saw. Rather than charge back outside blindly, he held up his syringe gun and crept toward the stairs to get a look out at the field._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____Sniper's eyes shot open, having been scrunched in pain._ _ _ _

____Someone was coming up the stairs._ _ _ _

____He tensed at the familiar creaking sound the third step always made. He knew well enough to avoid it -as did the blue Spy _that backstabbing sneaky little bastard _\- but few others did. He tucked himself as far as he could into the corner, dragging his rifle out of sight as well. Maybe whoever it was would just look out at the field or jump out the window onto the roof and not check for anyone. Maybe it was one of his teammates, though why they would come up here was beyond him. The wound in his side throbbed painfully, and he held his breath to quiet himself.___ _ _ _

______Steps approached the opening from the stairway, and the intruder peaked through. It was the BLU medic. The man, who was much shorter than anything the sniper had expected, faltered timidly through the entrance. He appeared to be alone, which was odd for someone of his class. He was a double of Sniper's own medic, but his blue tie and gloves gave away his team. Sniper hadn't gotten a good chance to look at him before, besides through a scope and in the midst of battle, though they had been fighting this exact team for months now. Snipers and medics just didn't interact often on the battle field._ _ _ _ _ _

______Though they were technically doubles, no two people of the same class ever looked _exactly _the same. In his pain-filled, groggy state, Sniper took a moment to take in the medic in front of him in comparison to the familiar one on his own team. This man looked battered and exhausted. He hadn't spotted sniper yet, and appeared to be taking a moment to catch his breath. He was much shorter than the RED medic, looked younger, and had longer, darker, messier hair. He looked focused, and held his strong square jaw set forward. Sniper thought absently that he was probably the kind of person that stuck their tongue out when they concentrated on something. Even from this distance, sniper could see that his eyes were a startling vibrant ice blue behind his round, metal framed glasses.___ _ _ _ _ _

________He was looking around warily with had his syringe gun out and ready, preparing himself for more fighting. After his haggard breathing returned to semi-normal, he crept forward and peered out the window at the battle below, never noticing the sniper in the shadows beside him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________At least, not until a sudden spasm of the bushman's torso caused him to cry out in pain._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The BLU medic nearly jumped out of his skin as someone suddenly yelled from the shadows right behind him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He whipped around at the noise, pointing his syringe gun at the man who was gasping on the floor. Years in the medical field made assessing injures his instinctual priority, so that's what he noticed first. The man's lower half was soaked in a disarming amount of blood, more seeping out from between his fingers. The injury appeared to be in his lower left side, most likely a gunshot wound, and probably piercing the intestine and liver judging by its placement, dark color, and sheer volume. At least the man had the sense to keep pressure on it. Then Medic realized that this wasn't some patient. This was the RED sniper. He had aviators and a battered old Stetson covering most of his face, and he was very clearly dying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They stared at each other for a couple seconds until the sniper yelled again and stiffened, slamming his head back against the back wall, the noise coming from between his teeth. The medic seemed frozen to the spot as he watched the man suffer every functioning cell in his brain screaming at him to shoot. But the screams sounded far away, drowned out by ice water._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Instinct happily stepped into logic's place._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The medic promptly lowered and sheathed his syringe gun, unhooked his medigun from his back in one smooth motion and pointed at the dying man in front of him. He pulled the lever back without a single hesitation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The sniper stared up at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Nothing happened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	2. A Quick Fix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins! I'm so excited to finally be posting this, I'm doing two chapters in one day. This one actually has some dialogue in it XD. Coming up; Location: Harvest. Song: Not Your Concern by The Hush Sound. Chapters are probably going to be a bit longer from here on out :)

"Scheisse."

Sniper stared at the mouth of the medigun pointed at him, at a complete loss of what was going on. Was the enemy trying to experiment on him or something? He'd fully expected to die the second he'd revealed his presence, but this strange little man hadn't shot or stabbed or cut him yet, and had just said some kind of weird word Sniper didn't understand. Maybe he'd just lost too much blood. 

The medic swept forward, kneeling next to the marksman and placing his medigun on the ground, reaching for his bag with well versed movements. He was running on pure instinct now, shoving down all voices of reason screaming at him about just how many codes he was breaking, just how treacherous every action he had made in the last ten seconds was, and letting years of training and a field doctor's fierce calm talk over the crowd. 

The medic pulled out a syringe and Sniper recoiled in fear. He had no idea what was going on but like hell if he was gonna let this crazy BLU lunatic stick him with god-knows what. The medic seemed to sense his panic, and reached out a placating hand, but thankfully didn't actually touch him. When he spoke, it was like someone trying to calm a wild animal and tell a bad dad joke at the same time. "It's okay. This one really _is _medicine."__

__The man's voice was thick with a heavy German accent. If he wasn't so terrified, Sniper would have noticed that it was far heavier than RED medics._ _

__With a smile that didn't quite hit the mark of comforting, but was obviously aiming for it, he gestured at Sniper's torso. "May I?"_ _

__The sniper leaned back as far as he could, panting, wary and incredibly confused. He couldn't figure out why the mercenary wasn't just killing him already, but he was losing a lot of blood very quickly and reason was starting to fade from his mind. Another painful convulsion prompted him to nod and give his enemy permission to touch him. His desperate mind clung to the limp logic that maybe he'd die faster in whatever sick experiment this deranged doctor was about to perform on him._ _

__The medic nodded his thanks and reached over, moving the snipers vest out of the way to quickly pull up the front of his shirt. He didn't so much as blink at the bloody mess underneath, whereas sniper balked at the coppery smell of his own insides. The medic quickly plunged the needle into his side next to the gunshot wound, and pressed down on the pump to empty out all the liquid inside as Sniper grit his teeth. The bushman felt a tingling numbing sensation spread through the area, but it did comically little to combat the pain._ _

__The medic bit his lip and stared at the wound for a few seconds before cursing again, "Verdammt! None of my equipment will work on you!" He tossed the empty syringe behind him carelessly and racked his brain, ignoring the clatter of glass in the background when it hit the floor, eyes avidly searching the deadly hole in the torso in front of him._ _

__His eyes widened suddenly and he brought them up to meet Sniper's aviators. He couldn't see the RED's eyes through them, but Sniper could certainly see his._ _

__They really were startlingly blue._ _

__Medic was entirely too involved in his own thought process to notice the sniper staring oddly at him, "I cannot work with this of course, _unless... _" The medic mused to himself, brows furrowed in thought, before reaching forward and taking the sniper firmly by the shoulders and giving him a disconcertingly convicting smile.___ _

____"This is going to hurt. A lot,"_ _ _ _

____Before tugging him foreword from his spot against the wall._ _ _ _

____The wounded Sniper screamed when his side was jostled, moving the bullet inside him, and the medic quickly and efficiently moved him foreword and slid to sit behind him between the snipers back and the wall, legs on either side. He held the sniper -who was rather unhelpfully bucking to get away- back against him and grabbed the medigun next to them, pressing the muzzle against the mans chest, pointing at them both. He pushed the lever down._ _ _ _

____The mouth of the gun glowed blue against the snipers chest as the stream ran through him in its attempt to reach the medic behind. When twisting out of the medics grasp hurt far too much to consider, the sniper took hold of medigun and was now trying to push it away from him with weak, panicky hands._ _ _ _

____Peering over snipers shoulder, Medic could see that the wound was starting to close. The medic sighed in relief, muttering, "There we go," under his breath._ _ _ _

____The sniper thrashed in pain and panic, trapped with his back against his enemy's chest and assuming he was about to be killed in some kind of horrible neck-breaking headlock or something. He was getting weaker by the second and could do little to stop the medic, but to give him credit he _was _making it difficult keep the medigun still against his chest.___ _ _ _

______"Es ist in Ordnung. Entspann dich, bitte," The medic behind him said in a annoyed and exasperated tone._ _ _ _ _ _

______In no way did Sniper understand what was said, but blood loss, fatigue, pain, and the slow realization he wasn't being killed was enough for the sniper to release his stiff struggles. Slowly, without really realizing it, he leaned back against his enemy, relaxing a little. His jerky breathing slowed. Adrenaline stopped providing him energy. His fingertips were going numb, and the sharp pain was dulling to an ache. His eyelids drooped. He let his head drop back against the medics shoulder, noticing vaguely that he was very warm. Pretty comfy too._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Danke," The medic muttered when he finally settled down. Sniper barely heard it._ _ _ _ _ _

______The medigun was half as effective running through Sniper than it would be on any BLU team member. It balked at healing a RED and resisted, and Medic had to stop and start it a few times, but it was getting the job done. Just very slowly. Blue streams begrudgingly sewing up internal organs. The medic could see the outline of snipers collar bone silhouetted by the blue light filling the man's chest like an X-Ray as the stream was forced through him. He could feel his own burns healing as well as a few streams made it all the way to him through the snipers back._ _ _ _ _ _

______With nowhere else to put them, Sniper awkwardly rested his arms on the medic's knees stanced on either side of him. The medic didn't even notice, and wouldn't have cared if he had._ _ _ _ _ _

______The BLU spoke after a few seconds. Sniper couldn't really hear him, and he felt like he was going to pass out, but he could feel medic's chest vibrate though his back as he spoke. He wondered again why exactly he was using the enemy medic like an armchair, but he couldn't bring himself to care very much._ _ _ _ _ _

______A voice spoke softly next to his head, but all he could focus on was the heavy accent. "This thing was not made to heal REDs. I do not think it will work for much longer."_ _ _ _ _ _

______As if on cue, the medigun shut off with a wheeze. Medic tried to restart it, but it sensed no blue injury in the vicinity, now that his own burns were gone. He made a sort of 'I told you so' sound, and set the machine down._ _ _ _ _ _

______Snipers wound was far from healed, but it was much better than before. Medic slowly climbed out from behind him, making him move forward which was painful enough to make him keep his eyes open, and helped him down to the floor._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I need you to lie down, ja."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sniper did as he was told, aware of the fact that Medic was in control in this situation. It wasn't a fact that made him particularly comfortable, but he didn't really have a choice. He was a little sad to lose the warmth behind him though, the floor was not remarkably comfortable. He felt colder than normal. He was pretty sure he should be dead right now, and was quite confused as to why he was otherwise._ _ _ _ _ _

______Medic got on his knees over him, straddling his legs. Sniper blinked wordlessly up at him, half aware that this was not a position he had any interest in being in but also finding himself intrigued, like he was watching it happen to someone else. Could he die now? He had a perfectly good bullet to bury in the head of a certain enemy sniper, and respawn was waiting. He left it to the medic, who wiped off sweat with an arm across his forehead and sat on his haunches over his legs, regarding the marksman's side like it was a car engine giving him trouble._ _ _ _ _ _

______"I'm going to remove the bullet now, this is most definitely going to hurt as well," He admitted, shrugging his bag off his back and rummaging through it. Not much could be said for his bedside manor, but Sniper appreciated the straight foreword approach of this guy. And his infectious state of perpetual calm efficiency. And his icy eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sniper blinked at himself. What? His _eyes _? Why had he thought that?___ _ _ _ _ _

________After a bit of examining the wound, Medic commented with a shrug, "The medigun pushed it toward the surface, shouldn't be too bad." He planted a gloved hand on Snipers chest and sat on his legs to keep him down, then dashed some rubbing alcohol from his bag on the area, ignoring the answering shout of pain and shock. He took a pair of pliers out of his bag and, without a seconds hesitation, plunged it into the gunshot wound. Sniper gasped and gritted his teeth together to keep from shouting again, but all that happened was the production of a strange, pained sort of whine._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The Medic glanced up at his face, which was worrying as the field doctor was currently fishing around in his torso._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"If you burst that vein in your forehead I am not going to fix it," He remarked jokingly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Sniper hissed through his teeth in reply._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The medic nodded like Sniper had said something understandable. "I thought as much."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The BLU got a hold of the bullet and yanked it out quickly, stopping the resulting rush of blood with a gloved hand. With the other, he leaned forward and tucked the bloody bullet into snipers breast pocket, giving it a little pat. He grinned. "Here, keep it. Souvenir."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He poured on more alcohol and used another syringe near the wound. The double dose at least had some effect, even though it wasn't supposed to heal REDs at all, and the flow of blood slowed. The medic sewed up the wound quickly with tools from his bag and sat back on his haunches, evaluating his work. He grunted in mild satisfaction and stood, brushing himself off (more like whiping large amounts of blood his clothing) and slinging the bag over his shoulder. He stood with his hands on his hips and happily announced, "Well. That'll hold you over until you die!"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The BLU looked down at Sniper, who was still panting weakly on the ground, and offered a gloved hand. After a few seconds of staring at it, Sniper took it and was helped painfully to his feet. His side still screamed at him, but his head had cleared a little. And he didn't feel so disarmingly _cold _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The medic steadied him as he stood and, once they were both sure that Sniper wasn't about to face plant, gave his hand a firm shake. The stoic little BLU nodded curtly at him and turned to leave, but Sniper didn't let go of his hand, stopping him mid turn. The sharpshooter stared down at the shorter man, racking his brain about what the hell had just happened._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Mouth flopping about like a fish, "Why?" was all he managed to finally say._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Medic gave him an genuine smile and patted their clasped hands with his free one.  
"I have no idea." He said sincerely._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The medic released his grip and started off toward the stairs again, but turned and spoke just before he got there, walking backwards the last couple of steps to call out. "Oh, to repay me, maybe go for a headshot next time." He tapped his temple with a finger, unknowingly leaving a smudge of sniper's blood next to his hairline. "Far less painful. Auf Wiedersehen."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And then he was gone. Sniper stared after him, raising a hand in a pointless wave that was far too late. His mind flashed back to earlier that day, when he fired at the very same medic and missed his head, instead hitting his the throat, tearing though it and sending the man writhing to the the ground. It had taken him a very long time to die. Had the medic thought he'd missed on purpose? It wasn't like Sniper had taken the time to finish it faster. He frowned as something like guilt crawled into his chest. No wonder the man had asked for a clean headshot next time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He couldn't fathom why the BLU had gone through so much to keep him alive in a place where they were not only paid to kill each other, but faced death multiple times a day. This was a nine to five for them, and as gruesome and petty as it inevitably got, it wasn't meant to be personal. They were all expendable, they were all replaceable, it was their way of life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Yet he had seemed worth saving._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Five minutes later, a bullet identical to the bloody one in his shirt pocket hammered through the sniper's skull and killed him in an instant._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	3. Souvenir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: RED/BLU bases. Song: Grand Machine No.12 by Electric President. By the way, the Heavy/Medic pairing mentioned in the tags won't be coming up for a long time, and does NOT involve the BLU Heavy or Medic. BLU Heavy is a terrible person in this fic, so I thought i'd mention that XD.

Sniper slipped through the thin frame, shut the tiny door behind him, and finally _finally_ breathed in the warm smell of his trailer after work. It was small and had terrible insulation, but it was _home_ and he couldn't hear Soldier snoring like he could from his room in the base. Sitting with a soft "thwump" on his bed, he slid his hands up his face and allowed himself to think about what the _hell_ happened earlier that day.

____He'd fought his way through the rest of the match like normal, or as normal as he could after a display like that. He shoveled some good ol' professionalism onto his racing mind to cover the intrusive thoughts of what the _fuck_ was he supposed to do now, but it the attempt was futile. Sure, he was trained to improvise and adapt to unpredictable situations, but he relied on the enemy to continue at least _acting like the enemy_ thank you very much. He'd gone about his business bringing down the heavy and eliminating his own BLU counterpart- hell, he'd even got the better of his rival Spy since he was about three times more jumpy than usual- but every time the medic entered his scope he'd track him, trying to decide if it was better to shoot him like nothing had happened or... not to shoot him? As thanks? But hadn't the man asked him _to _shoot him as thanks?______

__________The sniper groaned and fell back in his bed and stretched out, despite the fact his feet dangled off the edge. He glared at his ceiling, like it had somehow caused the weird interaction that had ruined his day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Why was this complicated? Who _knew_ what could be going through that ridiculous doctor's head? The RED medic, though respected and cherished by every member of the team, was undeniably insane. Brilliant, attentive, and tough sure, but completely insane. There was no reason Sniper needed to get worked up over the BLU medic acting strangely on field when a perfectly valid explanation most likely existed in the man's mind. Whether that explanation made sense to anyone else wasn't for Sniper to worry about, so why bother trying? He had a good job and got decent, regular meals, and had teammates that had been more tolerant of him than anyone else in his life outside of his own parents. He'd go as far as to say they liked him, or at least appreciated his work. Life was fine, he should leave it alone. There were always weird days on the field now and then, it happened and you moved on. That was how it had always worked.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________So why was it more complicated than that all of the sudden? Why couldn't he stop thinking about it? Why couldn't he get those weird icy eyes out of his head?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He drew his fingers over his left side absently, starting then he felt an unfamiliar disturbance on his skin. He looked down to see a jagged scar down his side, a new addition to the others he barred. He stared down at it, tracing it with his thumb. The ragged ghost of a bullet wound just under his rib cage._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________That definitely wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't gotten a scar in years, anything healed by respawn left no trace whatsoever. It was supposed to send you to default, whatever state you were in when you were put into the system, thus not having the ability to clear away old scars or (in Engie's case) replace a missing hand. But other than that it shouldn't have been a problem. Perhaps a wound healed by a BLU registered as an outside injury?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He blew out a long breath he'd been holding in, thumbing at this new jagged addition to his waist. For reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, part of him was strangely glad he had it. Like something had really _happened_ today, and it wasn't just him losing his mind.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________He laughed quietly to himself. As if he hadn't lost his mind already, God knows he'd been keeping his brain together with string and crazy glue for the last two years._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Finally forgiving his ceiling and breaking his staring contest with it, Sniper sat up, frowning and patting at his breast pocket when he felt weight there. He reached in with two fingers and fished the rifle bullet Medic had put there earlier that day, brow twisting as he brought it close to his face to examine it. It wasn't even _his_ bullet, it was the BLU sniper's ammo that had been ripped out of his side. There was even the word "BLU" printed into the side. He laughed in bewilderment and shook his head, standing to cross his trailer in a few steps and rinse his own blood off it in the sink. He stared at the shiny metal, thumb tracing the three letters idly, before setting it on the shelf above his bed next to a singular, faded plastic army man.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Locked in the medical bay in the far wing of the BLU base, a short man with an equally short tolerance for bullshit shoved down the urge to scream._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Today had been a terrible day._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Medic slid behind his desk and dropped into the spinning chair before sinking his head into his hands. Only then did he finally take the berating his mind had been waiting all day to give him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________What the hell was that?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He'd had one of the worst mornings since joining this damned team and then some had kind of crazy on-field breakdown where he'd gone and done something as ridiculously, stupidly, life-ruiningly deranged as healing a member of the opposite team. Except it wasn't a break down. He hadn't fallen apart. This wasn't something he could brush off as some kind of overwhelmed reaction to the stresses of life on the battlefield -no, he had been perfectly cognitive when he'd healed that sniper. In fact it was the clearest his head had felt in weeks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He'd done it because he _wanted_ to.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Because it had been so damn long since he'd felt like he was saving a life. Since he'd gotten his hands bloody actually keeping a body alive, using the knowledge he was trained with. He was a field doctor, he knew how to improvise. He knew how to do things quickly and efficiently -it was work that was visceral and manual and _hard_. Using a medigun, as magnificent of a machine as it was, felt cheap. He felt like he was wasting his skills, running around at the beck and call of people who regarded him as a refill on legs. It was exhausting work with no gratification, constant criticism, and the patients that did die came back to yell at you.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________But today he'd had a taste of that rush that made him love his practice. That feeling of kicking death in the face while you forcibly dragged someone screaming back to the land of the living. The sniper hadn't exactly been that close to dead, but it was still a spark. He still felt like he saved someone. Even if that someone was an enemy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________Scheisse_. He felt sick.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________The medic groaned and let his forehead fall all the way through his hands to the desktop. He'd done exactly the opposite of his job. No one cared about his little _spark of fulfillment_ , he was a hired mercenary for God's sake. Administration would severely dock his pay if they found out about this -he'd be lucky if he wasn't flat out fired or sent back to fight in prototype maps (he shuddered at the thought). This team hated him enough as it was, but after that display it was like he was not only giving them ammunition but loading it into guns labeled "shoot me." And they really did hate him (at least most of them did) there was no denying that. Not after this morning. Somehow, death threats didn't feel very welcoming even with respawn around._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Well. At least his door had locks. It was far better than fighting prototype maps, that was for sure._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________He wondered what on earth the sniper must be thinking. Maybe he'd forgotten all about it? Was that too much to hope for? Maybe the man didn't care in the slightest, that would be a perfectly sane response for a professional with a brain between his ears. Maybe he just did his job like a normal mercenary and would pretend it never happened. He probably wasn't brooding over it like some kind of psycho._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Medic slumped even further against his desk, feeling embarrassment creep in now that the self-bombardment had run its course. He realized he'd never had a chance to know a sniper yet. He knew they were all different, just as he differed from the RED medic, but he'd never even known a sniper on his own team. The current BLU sharpshooter kept to himself to the point of avoidance, and certainly didn't talk to _him_. Snipers in general were usually too far from the action to come face to face with the likes of him -Medics were always in the middle of the action. At least, they were supposed to be. He sighed to himself wondered briefly what country the sniper was from. He'd noticed some kind of dialect, but couldn't pinpoint it with the one word the man had said. Most English sounded like the same confusing garbage to him anyway.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He was too tired to get up, so settled for the cold edges of his desk against his cheek as a pillow. He fell asleep thinking of the fire he felt behind his eyes when he saved a life._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: CP Wells. Song: Devil Dressed in Blue by Right Away, Great Captain!. We got some confused boyos on our hands! Don't worry, they're only going to get more confused with each interaction XD. Poor medic though, bab is sad.

"You've failed!" 

The familiar, metallic, feminine voice of judgment rang out over the field and the syringe gun was ripped out of Medic's hands as it was sent to respawn, leaving him unarmed. The BLU doctor skidded a stop, nearly losing his footing in his haste to change his route. He had been headed for the large grey central statement of a building that housed the center point, but now that they'd lost and the humiliation round was beginning, he found himself unarmed and out in open exactly where the enemy was headed next. A sitting duck. A plump, grass-fed, cage-free Medic, ripe for the slaughter. He had little else to do but run. 

He turned and broke across the field, away from the lost center point he'd set out to protect, heading instead for a clump buildings he could hide in for the next few minutes of senseless violence. He hated humiliation rounds, they always seemed to hurt just a little bit more than usual. Maybe it was some sick trick Mann Co. used as incentive to win. It certainly worked.

The RED soldier blasted out of a high window from the point he had just captured, soaring out over the map like an enraged butterfly with a rocket launcher and a shovel and blood to spill. When the BLU medic heard a shout of fury from above, he knew he'd been spotted from the sky. He kept running, weaving slightly, buildings in sight and resisting the urge to look around for the threat. He'd hear it when Soldier landed, the man was hardly a master of stealth, and he needed to focus on running away. The soldier landed heavily with a skid of gravel near to his right and Medic swerved, nearing the clump of buildings and breaking into a wild sprint toward the doorway with every ounce of speed he had left. Behind him, the far slower soldier yelled something derogatory Medic couldn't make out over the sound of the wall next to him exploding as a rocket missed him by inches.

Shrapnel from the wall and the missed rocket buried itself in his left side, the blast flinging him like a rag doll. He hit the ground and rolled, ears ringing. He took precious seconds to push himself up and launch himself toward the door, barely registering the pain. He grabbed the frame and used momentum to swing around the doorway to speed down the hall he knew was there. 

"C'mere cupcake!" The gruff voice yelled from behind him. 

Medic plowed forward, gasping each time his left foot hit the ground and jarred through him. He took as many turns as he could, hitting and pushing off walls, still sprinting. He shrugged out of his coat as he ran, wrapping it around his torso so his shrapnel-shredded side wouldn't leave a trail of blood to follow. The thudding sounds of Soldiers footsteps faded, but he kept running through the winding hallways, not sure where he was going but knowing not the stop. 

He could tell no one was behind him after a few more turns, but hadn't slowed down yet when he whipped around a corner and ran smack into someone's back, almost hard enough to send Medic to the floor. The someone was thrown forward into a wall, but pushed off of it faster than seemed possible and whipped around with a growl. Their hand caught and clenched the medics throat, throwing him backwards. Strong fingers wrapped around medics neck as an arm forcefully slammed him back against the wall of the hallway. 

His back hit the wall hard and the breath crushed out of him -the hand clamping his throat prevented him for replacing it in his lungs. He gurgled and gaped pitifully for air, eyes wide, clawing with both hands at the wrist pinning him. He'd been slammed back so hard and was held in place so firmly that he was a few inches off the ground, held up just by his throat. Black dots flooded his vision and he kicked at the wall, staring at the snarled lips and emotionless aviator lenses of the RED sniper. 

The RED stayed frozen for a few unwavering seconds, stuck in full attack mode with hackles raised, not a shred of mercy to be found in his face. Then the snarl fell off his face, replaced by realization. It took a second to register that he had the _BLU medic_ against a wall by the neck and a few more for pure instinct to ease its claws out of his muscles to allow Sniper to let go of the man's throat. He released the medic suddenly and took a step back. 

The medic dropped, sliding down the wall and falling forward to his knees, coughing and gasping, clutching his throat. He could feel that his windpipe had been crushed, and still wasn't getting enough air.

The sniper stood in front of him, starring down at the struggling figure at his feet, unsure of what to do. It had been three days since their weird interaction, and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Now, his brain felt empty of any conclusions he'd drawn about it. He couldn't think of anything to do or to say, he just stared. 

After a few seconds of listening to some truly horrible noises, it became apparent to that the medic wasn't doing so well. Sniper frowned, clenching his hand by his side. Damn, he must of held on a lot tighter than he thought. Feeling uncomfortably like he was taking suffering roadkill out of the street after hitting it, the sniper promptly bent down and grabbed the front of the medics uniform, dragging him up off his knees to his feet. Medic gagged and grabbed at the snipers wrists as he was lifted up, unable to speak or doing anything except desperately try to breathe and stare at him with wide, wild blue eyes.

Without a word, supporting most of his weight by his lapels, the sniper backed him up about five steps and deposited him unceremoniously on the floor down the hall. 

Directly over a medpack. 

The medic fell into it and immediately felt the stream from the pack fix his windpipe, twisting it back into place. The pack worked a lot like a medigun, only distributing a set amount of health rather than a continuous stream. Air filled his lungs again and he gasped, gulping in hearty lungfuls. Slowly his vision cleared as blood reentered his head. He sagged in relief, backing to sit up against a wall and just _breath_. His throat ached, but he could get air in and out and that was good enough for him.

The sniper stood there patiently and silently, and they just stared at each other until Medic's breathing evened out enough for him to focus. The RED sharpshooter opened his mouth to say something, but stopped at the clanking of foot steps sounding from down the hall, marching toward them. Medic's face dropped into a look of panic, but he couldn't take his eyes off the sniper as the man leaned down and whispered, "We're even."

With that, he tipped his hat a fraction, turned on his boot heel and heading towards the footsteps, leaving Medic on the ground to watch him walk away, He didn't look back. 

Medic stayed put as the sniper disappeared around the corner, eye still fixed on this spot once the man left his line of sight. He heard him speak a little ways down the hallway, and he shrank back against the wall.

"'Hey, mate," His voice was rough and low, seeming to grate lazily out of his throat. 

The voice that answered was Soldiers, loud and energetic, and at odds with Sniper's soft spoken tone, "We won!"

"Yep, we did. Good on ya, let's head to the point."

Soldier nearly growled his next words, "But the enemy medic! That maggot is in here somewhere..."

Medic tensed at the mention of his name, wishing he had at least his bonesaw to hold in front of him, awaiting the death sentence he had no idea was coming or not.

"Already taken care of." 

He closed his eyes and let his head thunk against the wall. _Gott sei Danke._

"Good work, private! You're the best kangaroo I know. We'll take 'em down again tomorrow, you'll see! And the day after that! And the day after _that!_ "

"Oh, uh, yeah..."

The medic listened to their voices and footsteps fade down the hallway as Sniper led the soldier away from him. He let himself breath, tucking into the corner relatively out of sight, waiting peacefully for the humiliation round to end and for respawn to whisk him away to his main base. Silently thanking the RED sniper for letting him have this. If he was fast, he could get to his lab and lock the door so his teammates had time to cool off before taking another loss out on him, and maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad. He opened his eyes and stared at the spot sniper had just been, brows arching down in thought. He hadn't been expecting anything in return for saving the man, hell part of him thought he'd be furious for the weird breach of rules, but he supposed this really did make them even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It broke my heart a little to write Soldier's lines. Rest In Peace, Rick May. You were good son, real good: maybe even the best. <3


	5. Lab Lad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry for the random disappearance, I had college finals to deal with also just some life stuff happened, hopefully I'll be a little more consistent with posting for here on out. Glad to be back!
> 
> Location: BLU Base Lab. Song: Karma by AJR

There was a hesitant knock on his door, waking him instantly. As soft as it was, Medic shot out of his seat, heart rate skyrocketing. He teetered on his toes ready to bolt, gripping the edges of his uniform, and tried to sound strong without sounding defensive. 

“Ja, what is it?” His voice came out panicked and he mouthed a curse word to himself, swallowing to try and clear it. He didn't want to give any indication he might be guilty of something, in case anyone was aiming to use him as a scapegoat again. _This was his lab _, he reminded himself, he was doing nothing wrong by being here.__

__Someone shifted on the other side of his door. “Mmrfdmc?”_ _

__He blinked, suddenly feeling ridiculous for his reaction. His hold on the fabric of his coat loosened. Oh. Oh, it was okay._ _

__“Oh, Pyro. It’s you. Just a moment, let me-“_ _

__He willed himself to move and strode to the lab door, flipping the lock and easing it open to reveal the resident pyromaniac. The BLU Pyro looked up at him and whined, holding out their arm mournfully. Their blue suit was torn, and Medic could see a nasty burn beneath it._ _

__“Oh, you’re injured.” He flinched inwardly at how unsympathetic he sounded, but it felt weird interacting with his team in a way that wasn’t... hostile. His voice just sounded flat._ _

__Pyro nodded, and Medic stepped back to open the door, arm swinging out as a stiff welcoming gesture. “Come in, come in.”_ _

__Pyro slunk in, and Medic gripped his lab door. After a brief internal struggle, he decided to leave it open. Pyro was one of the only people on this team who's opinion about him he _didn’t _know. The last thing he wanted to do was make them feel trapped here.___ _

____“Take a seat Pyro, let me have a look.”_ _ _ _

____Pyro nodded and sat on the squishy patient chair that had yet to see an actual patient under Medic’s care. They watched him carefully, but didn't seem scared at least. it was hard to tell with the mask._ _ _ _

____Medic got his stool and rolled to Pyro, sitting in front of them and holding his hands out in a gentle nudge for permission. “May I?”_ _ _ _

____Pyro didn’t seem to want to look and him, but nodded and held out their arm. Medic took it gently and moved the torn pieces of fabric out of the way._ _ _ _

____The burn was surprisingly bad, and medic opened his mouth to ask how they’d gotten it, but quickly shut it again. Pyro likely wouldn’t respond and would just get more upset - they always seemed to get upset when he spoke to them. He held back a sigh at how useless that made him feel, but at least he could assist physically._ _ _ _

____“It’s not so bad, just needs some time under the medigun,” He explained carefully, trying to keep his voice neutral. He’d made the mistake before of trying to be comforting to Pyro, and it had ended in tears for the masked mercenary. His was simply not the face they wanted to see._ _ _ _

____He retrieved his medigun from where he'd set it asside, aiming it towards Pyro and switching it on. It took a few seconds for the wound to heal over, and Pyro looked down at their shoes the whole time._ _ _ _

____Once the wound was healed, Medic ran quick purposeful gloved fingers over the skin to check for any missed spots. This was about as much of them he ever saw under the suit. He looked up to Pyros mask, which he doubted they ever took off around anyone, and it was still aimed at the floor. In a last ditch effort, he put back the medigun and got a tube of antiseptic cream with medical properties of his own making, holding it up in offering._ _ _ _

____“Allow me to give you some antiseptic to sooth it, ja? Keep it from scarring, so forth?”_ _ _ _

____Pyro stared for a second, perhaps surprised by the offer, before they nodded and stood up, holding their arm out. Medic stepped forward and carefully applied some cream to their skin, and they gasped slightly at the cold._ _ _ _

____“What are you doing?”_ _ _ _

____They both jumped at the deep voice coming from the door. Medic whipped around, dread sinking in with some misplaced guilt like he’d done something wrong as he locked eyes with the huge form in his doorway._ _ _ _

____“A-ah, Heavy, hallo, they just came in to-“_ _ _ _

____“Pyro, come here.”_ _ _ _

____Pyro glanced at Medic before scampering to the Heavy Weapons Expert just outside the lab, arm clutched to their chest. The heavy put a huge hand on their shoulder, saw their ripped sleeve, and turned a glare towards the medic as if he was the one who’d done it._ _ _ _

____He spoke to the Pyro carefully, but didn't take his eyes off Medic, “Remember what Heavy told you, da? This is _Proto _Doktor, not our Doktor, you understand?”___ _ _ _

______Pyro nodded and wrapped their arms around themselves miserably._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Go to Engineer if you are hurt, he fix you. Do not come here anymore, yes? Go on.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Pyro gave one last look and Medic before trudging down the hallway. Medic looked after them as long as he could before inevitably turning his eyes to Heavy._ _ _ _ _ _

______The huge man’s gaze held nothing but warning and animosity. “Stay away.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The lab door slammed, and again the medic was alone._ _ _ _ _ _

______He sank into his stool, curling in on himself, feeling a bit sick. He knew he was hardly welcome here, that much was obvious, but he had no idea Heavy was actively telling his team members to stay away from him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He felt _guilty _of all things, which pissed him off. He hated feeling guilty. It wasn’t _his _fault their last medic had died! The last man had been with this team for six years before kicking the bucket in a freak lab accident. Obviously he’d been quite a character, to leave this much of a dent in his team._____ _ _ _ _ _

__________He'd been sent as the replacement after only two days- a greenhorn who hadn’t even worked with a full team before- and he could understand frustration and animosity but _this _seemed a little of the top.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He’d only even been here two months, and it was already starting to get to him. And now, not only were the teammates that hated him getting braver and more aggressive with each off-field interaction, but apparently they were telling the others not to go anywhere near him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________He grit his teeth a threw the antiseptic bottle across the room. It looked like things could only get worse._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Harvest. Song: I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters
> 
> You guys deserve two chapters since I've been gone<3\. Here's some Sniper POV after our peek into Medic's home life.

The RED sniper whisked himself down the stairs of his nest quickly, wiping the blood off his kukri on his trousers. He knew the BLU spy he'd just killed would be back with vengeance, and it was probably time to find a new nest anyway. He'd almost reached the door when the sound of someone moving around outside stopped him. He was well aware that he wasn't the strongest class when it came to close range combat, and an encounter with anyone outside of the support was not something he would survive. He backpedaled quickly into the shadows, hunching under the stair case and hoping whoever it was would just pass through. 

When the BLU medic stumbled inside, obviously injured, and slumped against the wall, Sniper almost cursed out loud. He had been watching the field doctor closely through his scope ever since the man had pulled that miracle-save nonsense for no apparent reason a week ago. After that weird little encounter where he accidentally crushed the man's windpipe, the Australian found himself wanting to.... to _something_. Talk to him, maybe?. It was a foreign feeling, as he really wasn't much of a talker even among his closest friends. Of which there weren't many. Any actually, not anymore.

He thought the whole incident would be wiped from his mind once they were even, but apparently he wasn't so lucky.

He watched from beneath the stairs as the medical man struggled to get something out of his bag. Sniper decided he'd stay put for now, no reason to expose himself. Sure, he could probably kill the poor bastard- hell the man had burns lacing over his left shoulder and chest and would hardly be much of a threat in this state- but after _not _shooting him for six days and then stepping out of the shadows and slicing his throat open felt way too personal and weird. All of this was weird. He didn't want the guy to think he had some sort of sick fascination with killing him up close and personal.__

__He was struggling to think of something to do when a syringe hit the floor and rolled directly to him, into the shadows to hit the tip of his his boot. He froze, glancing up to see if the medic was coming after it._ _

__He wasn't. It was obviously healing fluid that he'd dropped while trying to plunge it in his own arm, but the medic was fading too quickly. He groaned and pushed himself off the wall leaving a smudge of blood, stumbling back towards the door way, not willing to venture further into enemy territory to retrieve the syringe and heal himself._ _

__Every single rational thought simultaneously fled Sniper's mind, leaving only the stupidest plan he'd ever had: give the medic the syringe. He snatched it up from the ground, tucked it in his back pocket, and bolted forward._ _

__He lunged out of the shadows and grabbed the medics shoulder, pinning him back against he wall with one hand on his shoulder and the other holding his wrist with the bone saw._ _

__He didn't want to hurt him, that was in fact the opposite of his goal, but he didn't want to get skewered either.They were still enemy's after all, the guy still had a sharp weapon and a usable arm and the sniper had no intention of getting himself killed for this. The medic went very still, staring with steeled eyes but breathing fast enough to signify panic._ _

__This was bad. This was really bad, why the hell had he just done that? No no no, they were _even_! That was the only thing that had let him get any sleep at night in the past week, and now he'd gone and ruined it on some random impulse to help the guy he was supposed to shoot. Again. Now he either had to kill the guy or spare him, and either way if was going to be weird. Sniper _hated_ weird._ _

__Sniper realized he had to do something. You can just pin someone to a wall for no reason. He racked his brain for what the hell he should say, knowing full well he had gotten himself into this situation._ _

__"'Now, you stay right still if you know what's best for ya," He growled._ _

__Wow. Well _that_ had come out a lot more sinister than he had intended. Great, now he sounded like some kind of freaky sadist. Cursing every god he'd ever heard of, he quickly went on, trying not to sound quite so much like a serial killer. _ _

__"I'm gonna let ya go, just don't come at me, you got that?'_ _

__He wasn't really sure were he was going with this, as threatening the medic was not necessarily his plan. Like he had a plan. He moved his hand from Medic's burnt shoulder, and then man relaxed a minuscule amount and nodded._ _

__He released him quickly and gave him a little space, but not enough for the doctor to attack him._ _

__They stared at each other._ _

__Sniper's mind screamed at him. This went against every instinct he had except the wild one with no semblance of reason that was apparently running the ship._ _

__"Bit of a burn you got there," He blurted._ _

__In his mind, Sniper was slamming his head against a good sturdy wall._ _

__The medic raised his eyebrows in obvious disbelief at the supreme idiocy of the statement. "Uh, yes?" He looked to the massive wound. "Just a... _bit_."_ _

__"I got this for ya." Sniper said, holding up the syringe like it was a fucking lollipop. They were supposed to be even, why was he doing this, oh God he should _not_ be doing this._ _

__The medic's bright blue eyes lit up at the sight of it. "Oh! Danke!" He sheathed his saw and reached out a hand carefully, regarding Sniper with more intrigue and less like he was a mental patient. Not the Sniper would have blamed him blamed him._ _

__"This for that?" He asked, nodding at medics burn and motioning with the syringe._ _

__"Ja," The medic nodded, a little less guarded but still confused._ _

__Sniper waved his hand away. "Then here, let me."_ _

__He stepped forward, all signs of aggression or tension carefully subdued. They were both on edge being this close to each other, and both of them knew it. They could feel it in the air. He pulled the cap off the needle, careful not to touch it, and plunged it into the muscle of the medic's shoulder. The doctor winced, but watched him do it without complaint. He simply stood as still as possible against the wall._ _

__"Danke," He muttered as the RED stepped away._ _

__Sniper blinked at him owlishly, "Who?"_ _

__The medic held back a small laugh, "No, thank you."_ _

__Sniper swallowed and looked away. "Oh, uh...no problem." He tipped his hat and turned to trot back up the stairs._ _

__"Herr Sniper-"_ _

__Medics voice from behind him stopped his assent. He looked back over his shoulder. "Yeah?"_ _

__The medic smiled at him. "I must admit I'v been missing your quick head shots. I die a lot more by fire and blood these days than I'd like." He laughed like he'd told a joke, and waved a hand as he walked toward the door to the field. "Auf Wiedersehen."_ _

__Sniper stared after his back, and wondered if he'd ever see him smile again._ _

__

__Hours later, the perfect opportunity entered his scope. Medic ran into view, medigun charged, ready to invade the point with the BLU heavy. A week ago, he wouldn't have hesitated for a second to shoot him right between his wild blue eyes. He realized now that it wasn't guilt or curiosity stopping him, it was the simple fact that he didn't _want_ to shoot the little medic. He wasn't about to let him kill his team with an ubercharged Heavy either, but he still didn't want to shoot him. He knew it would be better this way. Maybe it could all go back to normal. Maybe he could still forget this ever happened. He just wished he didn't have to be the one to pull the trigger. _ _

__But he did._ _

__And it was fast._ _


	7. Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Mossrock. Song: Hello Hello by Elton John. I'd almost forgotten how much I enjoy writing about these fools.

BLU won.

For the first time in days, BLU actually _won_. It was all thanks to the medic, though he would never admit it. He was often the only member on his team that seemed to have any actual stakes in the game, and he'd managed to keep some of his teammates alive long enough this time to get anything done. The others had skills, there was no denying that, they just didn't act like it. 

The BLUs sought revenge for the countless massacres RED had dealt out during countless past humiliation rounds, and Medic's teammates ran screaming after the unarmed REDs like a pack of wild hyenas. The scout was shouting all sorts of childish, offensive things while bashing in the head of a demo who'd laughed at his poor excuse of a threat. The BLU demo was chucking bombs wildly after a frantically running RED engie, and the others had already charged toward the RED respawn. If only they were this enthusiastic about actual matches, maybe they'd win more often. 

Medic pretended to join in, but split off into a near-by building the fist change he got. He took no pleasure in killing unarmed men -particularly if he wasn't getting paid to do it- and saw no reason to do so during humiliation rounds. 

He wandered aimlessly into a warehouse room humming to himself, enjoying the feeling of walking freely through the familiar building without treat of attack for once. His whole body felt lighter. Winning days meant his evenings were almost guaranteed to be peaceful. No one could take out their anger on him if they didn't have anything to be angry about.

Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he spotted the top of a bartered old Stetson hat peeking out from above the box it's owner was crouching behind. His interest perked up at the thought of getting another chance to talk to the sniper. Ever since the RED had gone back to shooting him on a regular basis it felt like things should go back to normal, but there was no denying the fact that Sniper had helped him last time they spoke, breaking their so called "even" status. He could pretend not to notice him and continue on his way, but the opportunity was all too perfect to pass up. Besides, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about their strange encounters. He called out.

"It's alright. It's just me."

There was a pause. And a small cough.

"Oh."

The sniper stepped out and straightened up to his full height, brushing off his knees. He was a great deal taller than the BLU, who hadn't noticed before but took the full brunt of it now. He was used to being shorter than just about everyone he met, but not by quite _this_ much. The taller man hunched his shoulders a little, as if to compensate, and teetered on his heels. It didn't help much.

They stared at each other. Surprisingly, it was Sniper who broke the silence. "Uh, hey."

"Hallo."

They stood there awkwardly. Actually, the _sniper_ stood there awkwardly, and Medic seemed to quickly cure himself of the feeling. He became quiet relaxed, hopping up on a crate to sit, legs not quite able to touch the floor. He heaved off his medigun backpack, letting it drop to the ground and stretching out his shoulders. He smiled up at the sniper amicably.

__"You are Australian." He observed. Something about his tone made it clear that this fact amused him, though Sniper couldn't figure why._ _

__"What? Oh. Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Isn't your sniper an Aussie?"_ _

__The medic kicked one leg over the other and sat back comfortably, leaning on his hands. "I suppose he must be. I wouldn't know."_ _

__"But, 'es on your team!"_ _

__That seemed to have surprised the sniper. At least he sounded surprised. The aviators and the shadow of his hat hid a lot of his facial movement, so Medic was going off of tone and body language here. He was partially accustomed to it from limited interactions with Pyro, but he still wished he could see his eyes._ _

__"Yes, I know that. But Medics and Snipers don't usually work hand in hand, and _my_ team likes to communicate as little as possible. I know very little about my fellow teammates, mostly because they never bother to tell me." _ _

__Sniper stood in silence for a good second before responding with a flat, "Well that's...different."_ _

__"Is it?"_ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__"Hm." Medic gave him another brief but easy smile. "Well, If you ask me, it is probably the reason we suck."_ _

__That got a pair of eyebrows to shoot up above those giant sunglasses. Medic surprised himself by how much he was _enjoying_ the task of trying to get a reaction out of the tall, quiet hat rack of a man._ _

__"You don't...suck." He faltered out._ _

__Medic snorted and waved a hand. "Oh please. We all know it was pure chance we won today, don't kid yourself."_ _

__Sniper didn't really have an answer for that, but his silence spoke volumes._ _

__Medic jumped to change the subject, sensing his discomfort and acting as a sponge for Snipers inherent awkwardness. He got the impression that sniper was like some kind of an timid wild animal, something that would run if startled. For some reason he wanted to keep that from happening._ _

__"Nice shot today, by the way." He said, tapping his temple. He'd been taken out halfway through vaulting out a window mid sprint this morning, it could't have been an easy shot._ _

__Sniper shrugged. "Don't mention it. You had pyro on your tail, I figured it would be faster. No one likes burning to death."_ _

__"It was. Danke."_ _

__Sniper actually laughed. It was barked and short, and almost seemed accidental like it slipped out without permission, but still a laugh. Enough of a laugh that Medic found himself wanting to hear it again._ _

__Sniper shook his head, "Gotta be the first time I've been thanked for shooting someone in the head, mate."_ _

__The medic chuckled. "They were interesting circumstances."_ _

__The silence that followed was a far more comfortable one than the first, but Sniper bounced on his heels and couldn't help but break it._ _

__"I...I never did thank you for what you did. Thanks, uh for that."_ _

__Medic looked up at him from his seat on the crate and said "Of, course," as if it saving the enemy's life was a perfectly normal, sane, healthy thing to do. As if "of course" applied to their situation in any way at all whatsoever._ _

__Sniper swallowed uneasily. "Ya know, I might just be curious to a fault here- but I can't get it outta ma head. Why in the hell did you save me? For the fuckin' life a me i can't figure it out."_ _

__Medic opened his mouth to try find an answer for the sniper. And for himself. Or to tell him that he just liked saving people. Or maybe to inform both of them that he was just a fluke in the system, and he better go ahead and kill Sniper now so they could just get back to normal._ _

__And then the humiliation round ended and the ruffled man in front of him died instantly._ _

__Some instinct caused medic to lunge forward and catch the man as he crumpled. He stood there with a limp body in his arms for a few shocked seconds before slowly lowering it to the ground. Without meaning too, he took note of what Australian smelled like. It was surprisingly pleasant, like baked bread and desert rocks under the sun._ _

__The medic stared down at the RED, wondering what he would have said to Sniper given just a few more seconds. He'd completely forgotten that, once the round ended, whoever was still alive on the loosing team died instantly and was whisked away to the respawn in their main base, while the winners got to celebrate and teleport back on their own time. Apparently the sniper had forgotten about that too._ _

__Death here had really taken some getting used to for the medic. It had really thrown him off the first time he experienced it from the point of view of anyone but the person dying (though _that_ point of view was pretty jarring too). He had seen enough death in his time to know what it was like, seen the light leave people's eyes, but it was nothing like that here. Here there was only artificial demise. It was more than just the fact that the person in question was going to wake up in a few minutes. Here, the body wasn't _allowed_ to die. It certainly wasn't alive, it didn't have a pulse or anything, but It was certainly not truly dead. It was held in some kind of stasis between life a death so it could be recycled by respawn. Medic knew death. It was grotesque and you could feel it and smell it and sense it. Here, death was much more like some kind of coma. Somehow, that didn't make the killing any easier. _ _

__Medic shock himself of his thoughts, looking at his watch before looking back to the sniper, who hadn't faded away to respawn just yet. He smiled suddenly and mischievously removed a single rifle bullet from the pack of ammo on the snipers hip, tucking it into the man's breast pocket just like before. The RED wake up in respawn with it, but probably wouldn't find it until later. Medic liked the idea of Sniper sitting in his base somewhere, wondering how the hell it got there._ _


	8. Meet The Red Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: RED Base. Song: Hello My Old Heart by The Oh Hello's. Time for some more characters!!

Sniper woke with a start in respawn. Admittedly, there were few times when one woke in respawn _without_ a start, as dying really takes some getting used to and was often quite unexpected. But this time it wasn't the method of death or shock that had surprised him. Rather than a bullet to the head or a knife to the back, this time the his last memory was the sight of the BLU medic darting forward to catch him as the world went black in the familiar swirl of respawn claiming him. He blinked and shook his head. 

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked down into the one eye of the RED demoman. 

"Lookit who made it all the way through the killin' spree! Nice job today Sharps, we can't win em all, right lad?"

He sighed and nodded, looking around to gather his equipment. "Yeah, I 'spose so. Took a couple 'a shabby shots today though."

"Pfffft, So what if you missed the _zit_ on the scouts _nose_ or whateve' you were aimin' for."

The sniper gave him a look and slung his rifle and bag up onto his back. "I missed three perfect shots," he grumbled, adding, "In a row," for emphasis.

Demo rolled his eyes. "Mate. I blasted me own arse through a window and straight into Heavy fire on _accident_. And I consider it an okay day. Lighten up on yourself Sharps, we'll get 'em next time." 

Since names were strictly confidential, none of mercenaries actually knew each other by name. Referring to each other by class had gotten old real fast, plus it felt way too pretentious to call a man you'd died for by his profession. So many of the mercs had resorted to nicknames. Sniper supposed that the demoman's name for him had sprung from the term sharpshooter, but he wasn't certain. He'd never asked. He'd certainly never come up with something for him in return, and he wondered suddenly if he should have. 

They walked out of the spawn room together and into the main section of the home base. The teams were teleported all over The States to fight different matches at different locations, but their base camp was stationed in New Mexico and they were sent out from there. They had a couple bases, some in far harsher environments, but this was by far the one they spent the most time at. This was Sniper's favorite. It where he kept his van, which was far more of a home to him than any room inside a base. Plus, he hated the cold.

Demo continued to chat to him as the walked the hallway towards the common room. Sniper quietly walked along with him, and demo wasn't at all put off by his lack of response. In fact, after working with the man for years, Demo had come to not expect much out of sniper in the way of interaction. He'd stopped taking it personally a long time ago. He didn't think it was particularly healthy for Sniper to be so quiet all the time, and went out of his way to involve the bushman with the team and push him out of his comfort zone every once in a while, but he also understood that it was just the way he was. Sniper was quiet, but it didn't mean he didn't care. Usually he listened to demos idle talk, and usually found it surprisingly amusing, but today his thoughts were elsewhere. They were on a certain lab coat clad member of the BLU team, to be exact. 

The two strode through the doorway together and into the busy common room, as many of the mercs had died within the first few seconds of the humiliation round and made their way here to await dinner. Cooking duty rotated every night, and after noticing Engie behind the stove, most could relax knowing that they could count on a decent meal tonight. The southerner wasn't a chef, but he had mastered the basics of cooking and his meals where usually simple but good. 

The common room was large, sporting a connected kitchen at one end, two long tables in the middle, a few arms chairs and a sofa around a game table at the other end. The Heavy and Medic had already started a game of checkers, Medic in his and Spy's (they practically raced each other for it every day) favorite chair, and Heavy taking up much of the couch by himself. The two were hardly seen apart, and no one on the team missed the little smiles Heavy seem to only save for the doctor, or the longing, wistful space-outs gazing at his companion the medic would fall into when he thought no one was looking. The two refused to acknowledge anything of the sort between them, and it drove few other members of the team batshit.

Across the room, Engie was stirring something that smelled delicious and quietly explaining the recipe to pyro, who was leaning on the counter with their chin in the their hands, listening intently. The firebug was drawn to the kitchen and was usually willing to help out whoever was cooking, but particularly if the person was engie. For some reason, the pyro was absolutely fascinated with the little mechanic, and had followed him around since day one. The amicable Texan had taken to them quickly, not minding his new curious shadow in the slightest. Soldier, who had a habit of expecting the impossible of everyone and really liked shouting at people, had surprisingly also developed a soft spot for the pyro and was considerably kinder towards them. Not that he was particularly harsh to the rest of his team, he mostly spent his time boosting moral, but he had a gentleness around the firebug that he didn't seem capable of otherwise. Because of this, the pyro had started shadowing him as well. The helmeted soldier was currently leaning on the counter next to them, soaking in the same cooking lesson from engie. God knew he needed it. Everyone dreaded the day of the week that soldier had to cook. 

The sniper sat at his usual spot on the end of the long table in the middle of the room, slipping off his fingerless glove to inspect a fraying rim he'd noticed earlier today. It kept catching on on his gun, which had just made the tear worse.The demo plopped on the bench directly across from him, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently waiting for food.

Spy, who had been mixing some kind of alcoholic beverage behind the engie, walked over with his glass of fancy alcohol and sat almost daintily a little ways down from the demo. He glanced at Snipers glove in the bushman hands.

"You need a new glove, Sniper?"

The Aussie looked up, surprised at the voice, and shrugged. "Nah, it'll still do for now. Just a little glue should do the trick." He tried to make his voice sound normal. Casual.

The spy rolled his eyes at the thought of such disrespectful treatment of attire and held out a nonchalant hand. "Let me see."

Sniper blinked and wordlessly tossed him the glove. Spy snatched it easily and inspected the fraying rim.

"Hm. What _have_ you done to your glove, bushman?"

Sniper raised amused eyebrows at him. "Uh, wore it?"

Spy's own eyebrows sassilly entered the conversation. "Obviously. If you mean to say wore it down. Why not get a new one?"

Snipers shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "It's leather. Wore 'em in already, fits nice. I like it."

Spy scoffed and tucked the glove inside his jackets inner pocket. "Fine. I'll fix it for you, have it to you by the morning."

"Pfft. The sight of it is just to much for you to handle, eh?" He tried to keep any disbelief at such an offer out of his voice.

"Excuse me for not wanting my teammates to look like a troop of baboons."

Sniper rolled his eyes, subconsciously rubbing his now uncovered hand. It was weird not having his glove. There was a tan square on the back of his hand where the hole in the glove was usually positioned. Far more weird, however, was the fact that spy was talking to him. Spy usually avoided him now, but today it felt a little bit like it used to. Like it had been for years.

Before the _incident_.

Spy was one of the few close friends that sniper had ever had. He technically counted all of he's teammates as 'friends' in a way, but Spy was one of the few people who truly knew sniper. One of the few who he'd allowed to know him. He felt the pang in his chest at the friendship he had lost with the Frenchman, and found himself staring at him. The spy met his eyes, saw the stare and immediately hardened over, throwing up those damn walls again. Spy went to his drink, and Sniper looked down at the table. He could tell that he was far from forgiven.

Why did it have to be so fucked up? 

It was a short dinner. Simple and short. Soldier yelled and Demo laughed, and Scout tried to elicit any kind of response out of Sniper though he did not comply. Spy kept to himself, and didn't speak to Sniper again. Sniper was as aware of his pointed silence as much as he had been since the Frenchman had more or less stopped talking to him. Not that he blamed him.

He tried to focus on his dinner, and luckily had heaps of distracting thought material; his weird mutual not-murdering streak with the BLU medic. At one short happy time of his life he might have gone to Spy with this. Now he as doomed to brood, just like he always had. He should be used to it, after doing it his whole life, but he'd grown accustomed to the pondering squint and swirling clink of iced bourbon of his former masked smoking buddy.

But he wasn't really sure if this was something he could go to anyone with. Not that there even was a _this_. He and the enemy had just... What? Politely conversed? He supposed he personally hadn't directly broken any codes, though the enemy medic certainly had. Saving the opposite teams life was defiantly crossing some lines. Physically healing them with equipment was worse. He felt weird about that whole thing. He defiantly didn't trust the doctor, in fact he half expected the man to be luring him into some kind of freak trap. Who knows, maybe he had caught Sniper's dying body to tear off his ears and inspect them for some mad scientist shit. 

Or maybe he had just caught him because he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demo has a heart of gold and you cannot convince me otherwise.


	9. The Good Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Location: Harvest. Song: Doctor by Truslow

He was so focused on the scout in his scope he didn't even hear anyone come up the stairs. He muttered unknowingly to himself, finding the perfect angle and predicting exactly where the scout was going to zigzag to next. He aimed at the empty air and pulled the trigger, knowing that by the time the bullet reached that spot, so would the BLU scouts head. He didn't even have to see it hit to know it was a good shot, he'd known as soon as he pulled the trigger. He chuckled an insult at the BLU, reloading automatically and looking down the scope for his next target. 

He jumped about a foot and reached wildly for his kukri when a voice behind him spoke.

"No wonder Spy stabs you so often. You really are quite focused, aren't you?"

Wide-eyed, the RED sniper turned to see the  
BLU medic leaning comfortably against the wall behind him.

"'ow long have you been there!" he spluttered, sounding a bit indignant but more surprised than anything.

The medic kept a nonchalant face, wanting to appear at ease but hoping he hadn't crossed a line by coming up here during a match.  
"Oh a while. You talk to yourself, it's very amusing." 

The sniper flushed under his tan and glasses. He turned his back to Medic and his attention to the window, a gesture which spoke volumes of his unconventional trust that the BLU wasn't going to kill him. Medic was a little taking aback. He could tell Sniper wasn't a very trusting creature by nature, and on top of that literal backstabbing was one of his most frequent daily grievances. He felt honored by this small trust, and happy he gotten the bushman to blush. That was certainly a rare occurrence.

Sniper had situated himself back into sniping, getting back into his routine even with the medic's presence. "Christ," he muttered, "What do I talk about?"

Medic chuckled. "Some of its quite violent really, some petty threats, but mostly you just laugh at people when they do something stupid or swear when you miss. You say _naaaaah_ a lot." He made his best impression of gravely rough way the Aussie made the noise.

The sharpshooter chuckled deep from back of his throat and Medic snapped his fingers, pointing at him, delighted he'd gotten the sniper to make the familiar sound.

"And that!" He said excitedly. "You do that a lot as well!"

Sniper glanced back over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

"Just how often do you watch me, mate?"

It was medics turn to blush. 

"Just twice. Three times. This a one two other times, Ich verspreche!" 

"What, why the fuck didn't you _say_ anything!" He gave a real laugh this time, shaking his head. The way it rang through the room made Medic want to laugh too. "Ya bloody creep."

"I didn't want to interrupt you." Medic defended himself quickly, remembering that this was an enemy and confused at himself for getting so caught up in this. But there was just something so _interesting _about Sniper, he couldn't help but continue. "But I couldn't stop myself this time. I'm bored."__

__The sniper stared at him. "Bored." He repeated flatly._ _

__"Ja!"_ _

__Sniper paused, still staring over his shoulder. "What makes you think a _sniper nest_ is gonna hold your interest, mate?" _ _

__"I...don't know."_ _

__The truth was, he'd come up here to get away from his teammates. Most days he could handle the pressure, most days he could take the looks and the blame and the comments and everything else while maintaining his temper. He knew if he retaliated it just made everything worse. But today was not one of those days. Medic swallowed and opened his mouth to say something, anything, else but a raised hand silenced him. Briefly, medic wondered why one of snipers wide, long fingered hands had a finger-less glove on it while the other hand didn't, but got distracted by what the Aussie was doing. Sniper had honed in on his scope and became very still, almost eerily so, like a predator stalking his prey. Medic went quiet and watched with fascination._ _

__Faster than medic could process the Aussie whipped out of the way of the window, and a bullet buried itself in the wall behind him. He turned back to the window just as quickly and took a shot, grinning as soon as he pulled the trigger, knowing it had found its mark._ _

__"Naahaha, wave goodbye to your head, wanker."_ _

__He turned back to the medic. Was that the slightest hint of cockiness in his smile?_ _

__"Sorry bout that. Lil' friendly sniper war is all. Your BLU there's not so bad," he said, cocking a thumb behind him  
toward the BLU team's side, "Just needs to duck when he reloads." He reloaded his weapon as he spoke, taking his own advise and staying out of the window behind the frame out of habit, even though the blue sniper wouldn't respawn again for a few minutes. "You were saying?"_ _

__That was the longest string of comfortable, nonchalant sentences medic had ever heard from the man. He was glad to have found him in his element, the Aussie was much less guarded than usual. Apparently he was much more comfortable while sniping then while standing around during a humiliation round._ _

__They'd met a few times of the past two weeks, mostly during humiliation rounds. RED had won nearly every game since, and Medic's excuse for running up to Sniper's various nests when BLU lost was to avoid a gruesome unnecessary death. Not that he was afraid of it, he most certainly wasn't and he'd made that clear. He was just looking for a brief respite from the carnage. But there was no denying the fact that the level of intrigue he held for the sniper also compelled him to come up here, though he'd never admit that to the man's face. Or that he genuinely enjoyed the company. Most of their post game conversations went similar to their first, with medic doing most of the talking and he was starting to worry he was overstaying his welcome. If there had ever been any welcome in the first place. Sniper hadn't tried approaching him, or even asking about the reason for saving him again._ _

__He did notice that the RED was making an obvious effort to saved him from worse fates with a fast precise bullet if he found himself trapped. Sniper hadn't missed a headshot since the day of their first meeting, and if Medic found himself cornered by a pyro, bang, he'd find himself suddenly in respawn. It made Medic wonder how closely the RED was watching him, and if sniper might be curious with him too. Hopefully he wasn't just pushing his company on a mercenary to polite to tell him to fuck off. Sniper did seem like some kind of rough outbacksy type of quiet Aussie gentlemen in his own special way._ _

__This was the most relaxed Medic had seen him. The bushman seemed to have come to a decision to trust the medic, against every instinct he had._ _

__They both heard the creak of the bottom stair, and Medic's wandering thoughts were dragged back to the present. Sniper's eyes flashed behind his glasses between medic and the stairs. He grabbed the hilt of his kukri._ _

__Medic held up a hand to still him. He put a finger to his lips to signal him the keep quiet, took out his syringe gun and trotted down the stairs._ _

__Sniper could hear two voices from the staircase. One had a French accent he knew all too well._ _

__"What are you doing up there?" The BLU spy hissed. He's nasally whine and the fact that the medic wasn't getting shot or stabbed was all Sniper needed to tell what team he belonged to._ _

__The voice he was starting to get to know and rather enjoy responded. "Looking for the RED spy. The dummkopt bumped into me, and I chased him upstairs but he escaped."_ _

__"Merde. The sniper must be in his other nest then. Go, get back to work, you filthy excuse for a doctor." His voice dripped with loathing._ _

__A few seconds passed, and the medic came back up the stairs._ _

__Sniper was a little taken aback. Sure his team wasn't all friendship and rainbows, but they certainly talked to each other better than that. And even when they didn't, there was always a hint of a joke to it at _least_. The BLU spy had spoken with outright animosity._ _

__The medic trudged back in and leaned against the wall with an barely hidden scowl._ _

__For a reason he couldn't fathom, Sniper felt the need to comfort him. It was ridiculous, but he wanted the medic to feel important. The only problem was that he was terrible at taking to people, and even worse at reading them. Comfort was not exactly in his repertoire._ _

__"Oi, mate, you really should go. They need you out there." Well shit, that came out wrong. Not only did it sound like he was agreeing with the BLU snake, it sounded like he was kicking him out too._ _

__Medic blinked up at him and for a brief second something akin to hurt crossed his face. It was immediately replaced with a mask of indifference. "Oh. Yes. Of course. I can leave, apologies for-" he began flatly._ _

__Sniper waved his hand to shut him up."No no no, mate, I'm not tryn' to get you to leave. That's not my point, I'm just sayin' that..." He sighed, and looked down at his gun. Showing was easier than talking. He waved a hand for medic to join him at the window. "Here, come have a look-see."_ _

__Medic raised an suspicious eyebrow, but curiosity was getting the better of him._ _

__"Come on, then!"_ _

__Medic walked over and crouched next to the sniper, confusion and question in his eyes. The RED merc shot him an awkward grin and offered out his rifle. Medic stared, dumbfounded._ _

__"What?"_ _

__Sniper tapped the guns scope._ _

__"Look."_ _

__Medic shrugged, prying his eyes away from snipers adorable, weird little grin to lean in and put his eye to the scope. Sniper guided the gun to give him a view of the field. The two were very close, and medic could smell that baked bread and the desert sun scent again. Not that he was complaining. He tried to concentrate on the view through the scope._ _

__What he saw was a lot of death. More specifically, a lot of BLU death._ _

__The sniper spoke softly next to him. "Trust me, I've sat up here watchin' through my scope long enough to tell ya that withoutcha, they all just die. _With_ you they actually stay alive long enough to do some good. No offense to your team, mate, but it's incredible you keep em alive _at all_ , their all so incompetent. But you can because your a good medic, Doc. I've seen it." _ _

__Medic looked up from the scope at him, eyes searching his aviators, prodding for eye contact. They were indeed very close._ _

__The sniper seemed to finally notice this and instantly got uncomfortable. Medic could physically see him stiffen up._ _

__"Uh, I'm tellin' you this cause it's no fun it it's not a fair fight. That's all." He rushed._ _

__The medic smirked, rolling his eyes good-naturedly and standing, giving the sniper some space which he could immediately tell was appreciated._ _

__"Yes I'm sure that's why. Not because you heard my own Spy insult my profession down stairs. Trust me, I'm used to it. No need to preserve my feelings, Herr Sniper." He said jokingly._ _

__There was no way in hell he'd let on how much he'd liked hearing sniper say that. Or how much his was touched that sniper let him anywhere near him, much less allow him to look through the scope of his prized rifle. Snipers were very usually protective about their personal space and belongings, or so he'd heard. It said a lot._ _

__The sniper smirked and turned back to the window._ _

__"It lets me focus on your Sniper though, so stay if you'd like. It's good practice." He offered, making it clear that he didn't mind his presence. The medic stood and watched his back._ _

__"Herr Sniper?" He questioned after a moment._ _

__"Hm?"_ _

__He changed his mind._ _

__"Auf Wiedersehen."_ _

__"See ya roun', mate."_ _


	10. Take Your Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Mossrock. Song: Go Get Your Gun by The Dear Hunter.  
> Hi guys! Not much to say, hope you're all happy and healthy! Remember to get sleep and drink water I guess <3

The battle going on in the field was far from epic. The BLU's had gotten lucky with a good vantage point and were actually holding they're own, but it wasn't likely to last. Sniper watched through his scope from his nest, knelt at the window, waiting for the BLU heavy to show his head. The lack of defense would give his team a chance to storm through,

"Herr Sniper!"

"Gah!"

Sniper jumped at the loud commanding voice behind him, but immediately scrambled back to his scope. He knew Medic's voice well enough by now that he didn't have to turn around to check, and it wasn't like the BLU spy would just reveal his presence like that. He spoke loud enough for Medic to hear, but didn't turn. "Christ, you nearly made me piss myself. The hell you doing up here, mate?"

The medic stood silent for a long moment behind him before taking a quick breath and spouting, "I wanted to ask a favor of you."

Sniper shrugged "Alright, I'll bite. What?"

"I want to shoot the BLU demoman."

That got Sniper to look up. But only for a brief confused second before he remembered his target.

"You mean you want _me_ to shoot 'em?" He asked, trying to find the spot again in his scope.

"Nien, _I_ want to shoot him."

Sniper paused, brow raised behind his glasses. "Your own demoman." He asked flatly, just to clarify.

"Ja."

He finally turned around to stare at the medic. To his surprise, the man was wearing an expression he'd never seen on him before. Worry lines creased his forehead, and he had a glint of anger in his eyes that was shoved down under layers of apprehension and forced normalcy. Sniper didn't care for it. "Why?"

The medic huffed, trotting over to lean against the window. 

"He is being ein miststück." 

Sniper blinked. "A what?"

"A miststück. Ein Arschgesicht." Medic groaned and thunked his head back against the window frame. "Oh I don't know the word in English, you would say _'wanker'_ , most likely." His mouth tried to shape the 'w' like the Aussie instead of letting it slide out with an accented 'v' sound like he usually did.

Sniper scoffed, ignoring any and all thoughts of Medic's accidental charm. "I call _everyone_ wanker. What's he doin'?" As he spoke, he shot the BLU sniper through the temple as the man inadvisably popped his head out for a quick glance. 

Medic shifted, hunching his head into his shoulders protectively. His voice was flippant, and not at all matching his demeanor. "Oh... nothing really. Trying to tell me how to do my job, and blaming me every time he gets his dummkopf arse killed, etc."

Sniper laughed in spite of himself, reloading. There was something endearing about the medic when he was pissed. He sobered when he got a glare in return, though. "So... you want to shoot the bloke?"

"Ja."

"Well why are you askin' me mate, shoot him! I'm not you mum!"

Medic rolled his eyes to the ceiling and groaned in annoyance. "I can't, he can't- I don't want him to know it was me. I need a red weapon."

Sniper eyed him. "Right. Have you ever even shot a gun, mate?"

Medic gasped in offense, batting a hand at Sniper. "Oh fuck off, of course I have."

A disbelieving eyebrow arched slowly above Sniper's aviators.

"I have!" Medic insisted, reddening. 

Sniper tried not to smile. "Alright alright, don't get your lab coat in a twist. Have you shot a sniper rifle?" He held up the long barreled gun for emphasis.

There was a long, juicy pause. 

Sniper laughed a throaty chuckle.

" _Du_ bist das Arschgesicht." The medic growled, jabbing an accusatory finger at him and turning away, but Sniper jumped to stop him.

"Wait wait, don't get sour. I'm sorry mate, really, maybe you've got a natural eye for aiming or something, who knows? Give 'er a whirl." He held out his rifle like a peace offering, standing to clear the way to the window.

With a glare and some muttering, Medic snatched it and knelt in Sniper's spot near the opening of the window. He set the gun's shaft in a groove Sniper had made from the many times he used this same window himself. The BLU help up the weapon, butt against his shoulder, hand on the trigger.

Behind him, Sniper stifled a snort.

Medic scowled. "What?"

"Nothing mate, you're fine."

"What!?"

"Nothin'!"

He turned to see the RED trying as hard as he could not to laugh. He was failing. Miserably.

The medic almost lost his anger at the sight and laughed too, so he turned towards the window again and tried to reposition like he'd seen the sniper do before. He didn't look _that_ inexperienced with a gun did he? Pride the slightest bit hurt, he aimed again. He was pretty sure he had it right, but the rifle slipped and he cursed.

Sniper swallowed his snorting laughter and stepped toward him.

"Here, mate."

He knelt to the left of Medic, slightly behind, and the doctor felt the hairs on his neck raise at the closeness. For once, Sniper was the one at ease between them. Medic tried to focus on the rifle, wanting to appear at least semi-competent with a gun in his hands.

Then two lanky arms moved to surround him, and all coherent thought fled his brain.

One of snipers hands went to the rifle grip, right next to Medic's, and guided the gun to a better position. The length of his arm pressed against him, along his own arm. Snipers other hand gingerly landed in the doctors hair to gently urge his head slightly tipped to the side, and then moved to rest on his shoulder and guide it back. Snipers face was right beside Medic's, over his left shoulder and close enough to rest his chin there if he wanted. He began talking in a low gravely voice, pointing and giving him direction, hands moving over his arms to position them. Medic didn't quite catch all the words.

"-and you wanna keep your arm like that, yeah? There we go. That's better. Now look through the scope, mate."

The Medic automatically did as he was told. There was a pause and another held back snort. 

"Uh- other eye, mate."

Blushing deeply, he switched to the far more comfortable angle and tried not to think of the breath he could feel on the back of his neck.

"Good." Micks hands stopped moving over him and stayed rested with one on his shoulder and one on the rifle. "Do you see em?"

Medic spotted the BLU demo and remembered why he was doing this.

"Ja." Why did his voice break like that? He cleared his throat self-consciously.

"Alright. Wait for 'em to stop movin'."

He waited. Sniper's thumb was absently rubbing back and forth over his shoulder in anticipation. The RED probably didn't even realize he was doing it, but Medic certainly did.

In the scope, he could see the demo start laughing, waving his arm. "He's taunting," He confirmed to Sniper.

"Perfect. Put the red dot on his head and-"

He pulled the trigger.

Medic was not prepared for the kickback. He squeezed the trigger, and was knocked back slightly into the Sniper from the force of the gun. Sniper, who was perched on his toes behind him, fell on his ass when jostled by the medic .

Medic teetered too, losing his balance and landing on top of sniper -practically in his lap. He scrambled up quickly, grabbing the frame to pull himself up and look out the window. He saw the demoman fall lifeless to the ground.

"Ja! Wir haben es geschafft! wir haben ihn!" He exclaimed, pumping a fist up in the air. 

Sniper didn't understand his words, but understood his infectious excitement perfectly. He grinned, "We got him?"

Medic grinned over his shoulder at him, face radiant. "Ja!"

Sniper sat up and smiled back. "Crikey! Nice shot mate!"

"Beginners luck?"

"Maybe."

Medic looked back out the window. "That... was incredibly satisfying."

He chuckled. "Right? And they ask why I'm a sniper."

The BLU stood and dusted of his knees. He looked down at the sniper, who was still seated on the floor, and offered a hand.

"Maybe you can teach me to shoot someday."

The sniper took it and was pulled to his feet. "I'd like that. You seem to have a knack for it."

They stared at each other for a couple of seconds too many, both failing to fully process what they'd just said. Finally, Medic couldn't hold it in any more. He had to ask. They’re broken so many rules already, what was one more? The words came out of his mouth without his permission either way. "What is your name?"

Sniper froze, and Medic prayed he hadn't made a horrible mistake.

"What?" Sniper finally coughed out. 

"Your name? I can't just keep calling you 'Herr Sniper'."

He could, He absolutely could just keep calling him 'Herr Sniper,' it was the sane thing to do. It was the only sane thing to do. Yet, Sniper's mind raced. Not even his own teammates knew his name, he hadn't even told Spy. But there was something about this short, fiery little German man in front of him that he wanted to _trust_. He wasn't used to trust but... what harm could Medic really do with the information anyway?

A lot, probably.

But he went with his gut. It told him to trust.

Sniper coughed, uncomfortable but trying to sound confident, "Uh... Mick." He mumbled. He was self conscious of it for some reason, it sounded foreign after so long. "It's Mick."

A smile split Medic's face. The name suited the tall Australian quite well. He shook the hand he hadn't realized he was still grasping.

"Very nice to meet you, Mick." He liked the sound of the name on his tongue. "My name is Josef."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh thank GOD I dont have to write freakin 'THE MEDIC' and 'THE SNIPER' every FIVE SECONDS ANYMORE. I know some people don't like it when the mercs have names, but this fic is going to be far too long for them not too. Plus I think it's cute 0w0


	11. Meet The Blu team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: BLU Base. Song: Five Foot Three by Flannel Graph
> 
> This chapter is pretty short, donno it just happened like that. I'm real excited for the next one though, should update soon!

Josef dragged himself out of a fitful sleep to the sound of his alarm. He peeled open an eye to make sure there wasn't a dove perched on top before slamming his fist on the shut up button. A dove landed in his hair when he sat up, and he shooed it away gently.

"Nicht jetzt, Kleiner," He croaked, groping for his glasses on the nightstand. He slid them on, groaning in general annoyance at the thought of today's battle. It was in The Dust, which meant not only did he have a day of criminally hot weather to look forward to, but he would also have to breathe in about seven pounds of crusty canyon dust. He couldn't fathom how people actually lived in places like that. He'd always hated the heat, it made it hard for him to focus, it made his medigun pack feel somehow even more uncomfortable, and it made Heavy irritable. That was probably the worst part, he didn't need to get backhanded through a window again. Glass and sand were _not_ a friendly combination in open wounds. Plus, after Demo's random outburst the other day, it was in Josef's best interest to stay on everyone's good side.

He wasn't sure what he'd done to warrant the Scotsman's sudden rage. In fact he was relatively certain he hadn't _done_ anything, sometimes mere existence and proximity seemed to be enough these days. Plus, the BLU demo had been so wasted he'd referred to Josef as "Butcher," a term Josef knew BLU had used for the medic before him. He'd never learned why, but it wasn't like he was going to ask. Demo had eventually gone back to calling him "wet nurse" and chased him through the base with a butter knife. Josef had locked himself in his lab, the Scotsman had thrown empty bottles at his door until two in the morning. Even once he left, Medic didn't sleep a wink, he'd just cleaned up the mess of glass outside the door as quickly as he could, locked himself in again and sat under his desk in the medical wing until his alarm went off. He'd gotten up of the floor with more resolve than he'd felt in a while, and that day he'd asked the RED sniper to let him shoot his own teammate. And by god had it been satisfying. 

Josef shrugged on his lab coat and ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten out a cowlick. A reluctant smile crossed his face when he remembered the RED sni - _Mick's,_ right he knew his name now- love for hot weather. Mick had told him that once, when weather had been the only topic neutral enough to talk about in during their strange little meetings. At least someone would be happy today. 

Was he a little concerned that some of his first thoughts of the morning were of a member of the enemy team? Maybe. He stared at himself in his mirror before shaking it off. 

It was fine. This was fine. Everything was _fine_. "Today is going to be fine," He assured himself.

A dove landed on his shoulder and gave him a questioning look. 

He glared at it. "Oh, shut up."

He fed his birds in silence, gently petting his favorite -Archimedes- under the chin before turning and taking a deep breath. It was always hard to unlock the lab and erase any sense of safety, false as it may be. He knew Heavy could break down those doors. Josef walked into the common room showered and in full uniform at precisely seven, just as he always did. He had learned early on not to show up later than that, unless he wanted to get berated for laziness. Spy was the only other person up -everyone else was usually in various stages of awake and prepared- but the slimy assassin somehow found enjoyment in holding only the doctor to his weird standards. And he had no problem reporting it to Heavy if Josef gave him any grief about it.

Josef gave him a nod and stared on a pot of coffee without a word. He hated being told what to do, especially by someone so pompous and self-righteous enough to start their own fan club, but laying low and following orders was worth the hit to his pride. He liked getting up early anyway, it kept him sharp. It was a bit like medical school, except without the studding or the fellow students and with a lot more animosity. 

Soldier came in next. He sat wordlessly, and stared down at the table. Josef didn't really know what to think of the man, he mostly just kept his distance. Soldier almost never ate breakfast, he usually just sat in silence with at most a cup of coffee until the portals were up and he could leave. He rarely spoke unless it was about battle plans, and it seemed like all he actually wanted to do was kill. Like his life didn't exist off of the field. There was a dead look in his eyes, and Medic had enough primal instincts left in him to know to stay away. 

Josef finished getting his coffee and left quickly, not particularly wanting to run into any more of his teammates. Scout and Demo always slept in, so at least he didn't have to deal with them often. Heavy always got up early though, so Josef would drink his coffee and eat whatever he'd grabbed from the kitchen in respawn. He was always the first through when the portals opened, even before Soldier. 

He leaned against the lockers with his steaming mug (which said 'I try not to lose my patients' in bold lettering) and a muffin, wondering if Pyro would ever be willing to join him. Not with Heavy around, obviously, but it was a nice thought. How did pyro even eat, they must have to take their mask of _sometime_ right?

The sound of portals powering up knocked him from his thoughts, and he stuffed the rest of the muffin in his mouth and left his coffee mug in his locker to wash later. He'd been on this team long enough to know he should have his uber charged and ready by the time Heavy got there, and there was no way he wanted to start today off badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna give him a hug and like a cookie or something, poor lil doc


	12. In The Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Dustbowl. Song: Lock Me Up by The Cab.
> 
> This one's a little cliche but it was so much fun to write! I'm finally gonna start adding some sizzle to this slow burn *wiggles eyebrows* 
> 
> The song mentioned in the chapter is Sway by Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, but I was listening to the Michael Bublé version when I wrote it so 🤷

Josef trotted toward the dusty wooden stairs, wondering if it was too soon to bother Sniper yet. It was nearing the end of the day, and his team was doing just about as badly as ever. He wanted a distraction, though these days it was staring to feel like work was the distraction from thoughts of Mick. He simply couldn't fathom why he was so drawn to the quiet awkward man, but he decided to stop caring. Mick was a person who would talk to him, Mick had a name and had thoughts and ideas he was actually willing (well, moderately will) to share. Maybe he was just starved for companionship. 

He was about halfway up the stairs when he heard the voice that at some point had taken control over how fast his heart rate was allowed to go. The only thing was this time it was coming from downstairs. And it was _singing_.

The voice he had come to accept as gruff and rough and tumble was singing. Smoothly. The distinct accent he was finally finding easier to understand -as English was hard enough already- was lost a little when words were put to tune. He crept back down the stairs toward the sound and peered around the doorway, and there he was. Mick's somber, husky baritone was effortless and quiet, but managed creep out and reach every corner of the room.

"When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway."

Sniper lilted away quietly to himself, crouching with his back to Josef and his eye on the scope. Medic stayed back so he didn't disturb him, and wondered why on earth he was attempting to snipe from downstairs. And how on earth he'd learned to sing like that.

"Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore, hm hmm hm, sway me more." 

Josef could tell by the tensing of muscles in his shoulders and the loss of focus on the words he was singing that Mick had locked onto a target. He continued humming and singing to himself in a velvet voice that for once didn't grate out of his throat like he'd done nothing but drink dirt for a week. 

"Hmm we dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me..."

He fired off a shot, absorbing the kickback like it was nothing, then gave a little whoop and a chuckle. "Hahaha. Take _that_ you nasty lil' backstabber." 

He stared singing again, but this time almost antagonistically, breaking the lyrics with his own dialogue. "Other dancers may be on the floor... c'mere ya lil bugger... hmm but my eyes will see only you... just try stoppin' for a sec why dontcha'.... only you have that magic technique... I gotcha now... when we sway I go weak..." He drew out that last note and went quiet for a second before firing. 

__"Boom. Head shot."_ _

__Medic, who had been completely entranced, realized he was standing there gawking from the other room like a complete idiot, He cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the doorway._ _

__"Hallo there, Herr Sniper." He would have happy drop-kicked himself into space for interrupting that performance._ _

__"G'day, Doc." Mick responded happily, not bothering to turn around._ _

__The marksman's mood was intoxicating. Medic had the ridiculous urge to run and give him hug. He decided it was best not to do that and instead walked over and leaned easily against the wall next to the bushman, still crouching on the floor. "May I ask what exactly you are doing downstairs?"_ _

__"Your Sniper knows my old spot too well. Thought I'd give em a lil' surprise today."_ _

__"And it's going well, I presume?"_ _

__"Heh, yeah it's aces today."_ _

__Medic cocked an eyebrow at that. "I'm sorry, what?"_ _

__"Aces. Today."_ _

__"Aces?" Medic had only heard the term once, and he was pretty sure it had been about poker._ _

__"Yeah. Means good. Ace. Great. Brilliant."_ _

__Josef nodded, storing the information on slang away with along with 'bonza' in his brain. "Oh, alright. Well I suppose it must be -as you say- aces, as I have never heard you sing before."_ _

__Mick immediately tensed, self-conscious, glancing shyly up at him before looking back in his scope. "Oh, you heard that didja?"_ _

__"Yes, I'm afraid so."_ _

__Mick chuckled and reddened. "Christ, was it that bad?"_ _

__Josef opened his mouth to say that it had actually been quite the opposite, but the sound of approaching footsteps stopped him. Apparently he wasn't the only one who heard it, as Sniper stood and whirled around, swinging his rifle onto his back and reaching for his kukri while looking for a place to run._ _

__Spotting a small door near them Medic acted on pure instinct. He grabbed mick by the arm, tugged the door open, threw mick inside and followed him in, slamming it shut behind them. As soon as he was inside however, he realized his mistake. He'd thought it would lead outside, or to another room perhaps._ _

__He was very, very wrong._ _

__This was in fact a maintenance closet._ _

__A very _small_ maintenance closet._ _

__He was now packed into a few mere feet of space with the RED Sniper like a Christmas present someone had tried to shove too many train models into. The space was so tight he was completely pressed against micks chest, pinned between him and the door. Mick had had to raise his arms over his head to make room for medic, but was tall enough that his Stetson crushed against the ceiling, so his arms ended up folded and held awkwardly above them both with nowhere to go. Josef's forearms were pressed to the back wall wall, on either side of Mick's body, and the side of his head was flat against Mick's chest, knocking his glasses askew. There was a installation he was pretty sure was an electrical box protruding from the left wall, jabbing against both of them, and a mop and Sniper's boot were now sharing the bucket he'd managed to step in. One of Josef's knees had ended up between Micks legs, but moving it out of the question. He could hardly breath. Luckily he was short enough and Micks legs long enough that the position wasn't _too_ direly compromising, but it was close, and still incredibly uncomfortable having their hips so close together._ _

__Every time Mick breathed it pushed Josef against the door, and he was fairly certain he'd never been more ready to die than this moment._ _

__"What...The... Actual... Fuck!" Mick hissed at the doctor. He could feel water slowly sinking into his boot from the small bucket he'd stepped in when Josef pushed him in here._ _

__Josef shushed him when he spoke, listening to whoever was outside._ _

__Mick didn't stay shushed."What the fuck did ya do that for?" He hissed again, a bit quieter._ _

__The medic tried to look up and meet his eyes, snapping at him in a whisper, "Well, what was I _supposed_ to do?!"_ _

__"Not lock us in here! Why the hell didn't you shoot me?"_ _

__Josef's eyes widened. "I didn't want to shoot you!"_ _

__"The fuck you mean you didn't _want_ to!?"_ _

__Josef went the defensive route, trying not to picture filling Mick with nasty, chemical-ridden syringes."Well why didn't _you_ shoot me?"_ _

__Sniper's voice, though barely above a whisper, went up a pitch, "With what!? My _rifle_? Thing's not exactly good at close range, mate!" He was starting to sound a little panicky._ _

__The medic rolled his eyes, "Nun, entschuldigen Sie mich."_ _

__"You know I don't know what that means!" Mick growled._ _

__Medic ignored him, "Stille! Someone is outside."_ _

__They both shut up and listened intently. They both heard someone with a Texas drawl say. "That was gettin heavy," and the clank of equipment unfolding right outside the door._ _

__Josef quite literally felt Sniper stiffen. They were too close to each other not to feel every movement the other made._ _

__"Aw fuck. That's engie. He's settin' up right outside, oh bullocks!" Mick whispered at him, frantic, letting his head fall back the one inch of space he had against the back wall.._ _

__Medic bit his lip, solutions flying through his head but most of them impossible. After a moment, he whispered back to Mick. "Which one is it though?"_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Which engineer?"_ _

__Mick frowned down at him. "Does it matter?"_ _

__"Maybe one of us can go out and get him to leave!"_ _

__Sniper's frown turned contemplative. "Okay. Okay, let me listen." Mick leaned toward the door a little, unintentionally squishing Josef against it. The BLU tried to breathe and not keel over and die from every emotion humanity is capable of feeling raging around in his head right now_ _

__There was a long pause._ _

__"Does your engie whistle 'The girl form Impanema' to himself when he works?"_ _

__Josef tried to glare up at him, but ended up more or less glaring at his chin. "I don't even know what that is."_ _

__"I thinks it's my engie, then. It sounds like 'em, and we were listening to that song yesterday."_ _

__"Whats with RED and music today?"_ _

__Mick grunted, and Josef wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a laugh or not. "We had a bit of a celebration last night. Spy was in charge of music, the man's got weird taste when he's drunk. Likes the crooners, I s'pose."_ _

__Josef was about to ask if that was a band, but they both shut up as footsteps passed by the door._ _

__In the silence, Medic noticed just how fast Snipe'rs heart was beating under his ear. And that the usually (relatively) amicable Australian had adopted a pretty biting tone in the past couple minutes._ _

__"Herr Sniper?" He hissed._ _

__"What?" Mick hissed back._ _

__"Are you claustrophobic?"_ _

__"What? No!"_ _

__There was a long pause filled only by the rapid thud of Mick's pulse._ _

__Josef cocked an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"_ _

__Mick scoffed indignantly."I'm a _sniper_ , mate, I spend half my time in tiny enclosed spaces, of course I'm not bloody claustrophobic! Why?"_ _

__"Because I know a distressed pulse when I hear one and I can certainly hear yours!" Josef huffed._ _

__Mick shifted, endlessly self-conscious and now even more aware of medics proximity. "Yeah? Well yours isn't exactly singing kumbaya either, mate!"_ _

__"Excuse me?"_ _

__"Yours isn't calm either!"_ _

__"Oh I'm perfectly calm!" Medic retorted, though he could certainly feel his own racing heart. He just knew the reason for it's pace was the proximity of the sniper, and not the size of the room or even the situation outside of it. "How would you know?" He snapped._ _

__"Cause I can feel it, mate." The Aussie muttered softly._ _

__"Oh." He realized that he was so closely pressed against Sniper that the man could feel his heart beating wildly through his chest. It was a weird thought._ _

__"Are you claustrophobic?" Mick laughed under his breath._ _

__Josef flushed, "Oh shut up dummkopf."_ _

__Mick grinned a little. "Well that wasn't a no..."_ _

__"I swear to gott." Medic said with an eye roll._ _

__Mick suddenly lowered his arms, which he'd been dangling awkwardly over their heads for some time, to encircle Josef's broad shoulders, resting his forearms comfortably behind his neck. When he felt the Medic suddenly stiffen, he removed them immediately._ _

__"Oh, sorry but uh... this okay? My arms were getting tired. Nowhere else to put 'em really."_ _

__Josef coughed, and tried to calm himself. _Mick wasn't hugging him_ , he told himself. He was simply trying to get comfortable in the situation he'd been forced into. He defiantly was _not_ hugging Josef to his slight, sturdy, sun-smelling frame. _ _

__Medic coughed again."Ja, it's fine. No problem." He said stiffly._ _

__"Aight." Mick put his arms back around the doctors shoulders. The sniper tried to calm himself down, telling himself that, _no he wasn't hugging Medic_ , and _no, he didn't want to hug him to his chest and run a hand through his shiny jet-black hair to see what it felt like_. He was just resting his arms. _ _

__A few extremely awkward seconds ticked by, as if passing more slowly then usual to enjoy the view._ _

__"Maybe you should go out there..." Josef suggested before he could explode._ _

__Mick tried his beast to look down at him. He wasn't very successful in doing so, and it made their faces uncomfortably close. "And what exactly am I s'posed to say I was doing in here, eh?"_ _

__"I don't know! Some kind of bushman ritual?"_ _

__Mick scowled at that, "The hell's a bushman ritual? Christ, how do I even get out of here anyway?"_ _

__Josef reached behind himself toward the door handle, but stopped when his fingers found it, frowning. "Wait, how _are_ you going to get out of here without him seeing me?"_ _

__"That's what I'm saying! I donno, I'll be quick?"_ _

__"I'm practically wrapped around you."_ _

__It was true. Mick had gone in the closet first, and there was no way out that didn't require ether Josef stepping into the open or a lot of bodily adjusting and shifting around in about two feet of space._ _

__Mick went kinda pink and tensed. "Yeah I noticed."_ _

__The way he said it implied something, but Josef didn't know what. The doctor sighed, cursing himself inwardly. He could hardly deny that he was somewhat enjoying being this close to sniper, his smell and warmth was... intoxicating, but the ragged Aussie probably felt differently. The medic had gotten them into this mess, and he supposed it was his duty to get them out._ _

__"I don't think you can get out without him seeing both of us, which would of course raise some awkward questions."_ _

__"Well, you're right there."_ _

__Josef paused for a moment, then made his decision.  
"But I could."_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"I could get out without him seeing _you_."_ _

__The Aussie glanced down at him. His arms were still resting on his shoulders and when Josef tilted his head up their faces were only a few inches apart. He hoped Mick didn't notice him swallow dryly._ _

__The sniper raised an eyebrow above his aviators, which were currently knocked a bit crooked._ _

__"What good would that do, you'd just get yourself killed? Sentry gun'll have you in seconds, and if not engie'll have at you with that wrench of his."_ _

__"Yes I know. It'll be a quick death, ja? If I'm gone at least it will give you some room to wait until he leaves. I can tell you are uncomfortable, and it is my fault we are in here at all. The point isn't getting me out alive, it just getting me out."_ _

__It took Mick a moment to understand what had been said to him, but his eyes widened and he retorted suddenly when he realized, sounding shocked and even a little mad. "What!"_ _

__"Shhh! Engie will hear!" Medic quieted. Mick ignored him._ _

__"What the fuck are you on about? You're not gonna kill yourself, just to give me a lil' extra breathing room!"_ _

__"But-"_ _

__"No! So what if I'm uncomfortable, I'm _always_ uncomfortable, who gives a flying fuck?!"_ _

__Micks arms tightened a fraction around him, a small enough movement that Josef wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. "We're both stayin' here till he leaves. N' that's final."_ _

__The medic stayed frozen against him, eyes wide and starring at the collar of the red shirt his slightly flushed face was pressed up against._ _

__"....Okay then, Herr Sniper." He said quietly._ _

__There was a moment of silence while Sniper steamed and Medic blinked in confusion._ _

__Gruffly, the Aussie muttered, "Went through all the trouble of askin' what my name is so you wouldn't have to call me that anymore, didn'tcha?"_ _

__Medic wasn't really sure where this was going. He responded uncertainly, remember his brief flare of confidence when asking for Mick's name. He hadn't called him by it since. "Oh. Yes."_ _

__"Well then. Call me what ever you want mate, but you don't have to call me 'sir.' That's what 'Herr' means, innit?"_ _

__Medic nodded confirmation against his chest._ _

__The sniper continued, voice losing a bit of its bite. "I told you my name. You can use it, if you like."_ _

__Red was creeping over Josef's face"...Okay...Mick."_ _

__"Right." The Aussie grunted back._ _

__After a brief silence Josef muttered, "You haven't called me by my name, either."_ _

__He felt Mick chuckle softly against him._ _

__"Oh yeah? And what do I call you?"_ _

__Josef thought about that for a second. "Nothing really, I suppose."_ _

__Mick shrugged. "You're the one goin' round callin' me _sir_ , that's all."_ _

__Josef gave him a little glare, " Well you do call me 'mate' all the time."_ _

__Mick gave him a look. "I'll call everyone 'mate'."_ _

__"Yes, well, I call everyone 'Herr'."_ _

__Mick thought about this. Begrudgingly, he said. "S'pose you have a point there."_ _

__"Well, feel free to use my name, though I suppose you didn't ask for it so you certainly don't have to."_ _

__Mick blushed a fraction and looked away, flustered. "Aight than... Josef." His throat caught when he tried to say the name, and he had to repeat it. Medic heard his pulse get faster when he said it._ _

__"Right," Josef grunted in his best Aussie impression._ _

__Before Mick could respond, they both heard footsteps approaching the door. They had forgotten to stay relatively quiet._ _

__Engie's rough, southern-flavored voice demanded, "Somebody in there?"_ _

__Micks eyes widened and he leaned back suddenly, wrapping one arm tightly around Josef and clutching him to his chest to pull him back with him, and reaching for the doorknob with the other. Josef ended up bent forward, Mick's arm keeping him from pressing against the door as the Sniper held on the the doorknob for dear life. They both froze._ _

__On the other side, Engie tried the handle. Mick kept it still and shut as Engie tried to to twist pull open the door a few times._ _

__Then there was silence. Without meaning to, Josef's hands went from the wall to Micks back and clutched at his shirt under the rifle he had slung over him._ _

__"Hm. Must be locked."_ _

__The footsteps receded. Mick stayed frozen for a few seconds while they both listened. Then he relaxed his hand from the door and slumped back against the wall as much as the space allowed in relief. He stopped clutching the medic to him, but kept both arms rested on his shoulders._ _

__"Christ, that was close." He whispered, barely._ _

__Josef let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in and nodded, not daring to speak. They both stiffened at a mechanical sound from outside._ _

__"Packin up!"_ _

__Mick grinned at him.  
"He's leavin'! Must have thought whatever he heard was a spy or somethin'!"_ _

__Josef smiled back.  
"You think so?"_ _

__"Yeah."_ _

__The beeping sound of a sentry stopped, followed by metallic clangs. The engineer grunted, picking up the heavy load, and tramped out of the room. Mick and Josef didn't move, listening for his return._ _

__Mick was the first to speak.  
"Think its safe?"_ _

__Josef pressed closer to the door to listen, part of him wanting to have a reason to stay here for just a few more seconds.  
"I don't know."_ _

__The sniper nodded. "I think it's safe now, mate."_ _

__"Okay."_ _

__Mick reached around him and turned the doorknob, letting the door swing open. Medic tried to turn to leave, but his hands were still on micks back, pinned between the wall, the rifle, and the sniper, and he was jerked to a halt. Mick realized Josef was stuck and leaned forward to release him, but Medic promptly tripped backwards and toppled to the ground outside the door._ _

__Mick chuckled and stepped out over him, kicking water off the boot that had been in the bucket.  
"Well, wasn't that graceful."_ _

__"Shut up."_ _

__Josef could see mick visibly relax at not being in such close proximity to another human. He rolled out his shoulders and popped his hat back into proper shape. "Should be a dancer, with moves like that."_ _

__"Niemand hat die Null gewählt," Josef retorted as he stood and dusted himself off, straightening his clothes and glasses._ _

__Then, both re-situated and back in the open at a normal distance for two people to stand, they stared at each other in silence._ _

__Then, they both started laughing._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josef says, "Nobody dialed zero" to Mick at the end there, which is basically just the really convoluted way of saying 'no one asked for your opinion' or just 'shut up' XD. Sorry I don't translate everything he says, but I want it to be heard from Mick's POV (unless you speak German of course). This one was just too sassy though, I had to mention it.
> 
> Some GORGEOUS fanart for this chapter by Alima_Kle, check it out!!  
> [ **DaA-12**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939291) (0 words) by [**Alima_Kle**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alima_Kle)  
>  Chapters: 1/1  
> Fandom: [Team Fortress 2](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Team%20Fortress%202)  
> Rating: Not Rated  
> Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings  
> Relationships: Medic/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)  
> Characters: Medic (Team Fortress 2), Sniper (Team Fortress 2)  
> Additional Tags: Art, Digital Art, Illustrations  
> 


	13. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Harvest. Song: Honeybee by Steam Powered Giraffe.
> 
> Hi guys! Don't worry, i'm still alive, and I'm not giving up on this fic by any means. I've just got a lot happening in my life right now, but Mick and Josef are my babies and their story will not go untold!

"Let me try it." 

Mick barked a laugh at the request. He was in a good mood today, Josef could tell. He pretended to be dismissive, but the medic could see a smile creeping onto the Australian's face. "Hah, no! Why?"

Josef bounced on his toes next to Sniper's window, crowding him playfully. "Just because! Come now, I only want to take one shot." He held his hand out for the rifle, holding back a grin. 

Mick made a face at him. "Oh really? Well, and what do you wanna shoot then, hm? Demo get on your bad side again?"

Josef broke and grinned. "Just shut up and I'll show you!"

They were in Micks nest on the first map they'd every really met on, the same room in fact. Medic half expected to see a stain where Mick had bled out onto the floor, but of course it had long been erased by respawn. Still, this map felt special, and this room felt like the home office of their secrete companionship. Ever since the incident in the closet a week or so ago, the whole thing had seemed a lot more exciting and a lot less daunting than it had before. There were plenty of things to worry about, most of them surrounding being caught, but Josef found he didn't care to think about it anymore. They hadn't been caught yet, so why waste the only moments of his day he actually _enjoyed_ worrying about it.

Currently, the doctor was attempting to get Mick to hand over the new rifle he'd brought on field today. It was oddly shaped and interesting, and inspecting it made for a great excuse to get closer to Mick.

Sniper grunted as he peered down the scope and spoke over his shoulder, amusement at Josef's pestering clear in his voice. "Show me what?"

Medic drooped with a groan, "Ugh, I didn't say I wanted to shoot something specifically, I just want to shoot it!" He exclaimed. He grinned as a thought struck him. "You did say you would teach me to shoot someday," He reminded Mick's expressionless back. 

"Oh so _now _you want a full lesson in snipin' 101? Pffft, sod off." Mick snorted good-naturedly from his crouch by the window, finally turning his head towards him.__

Josef clasped his hands together, the picture of pleading. "Come on Herr Sniper, just one shot? Its so fancy!" 

Mick shook his head with a gentle chuckle. "A real broken record ain'tcha? Well alright then, but don't be making a habit of it." He held out the rifle, standing so Josef could take his place at the window. The doctor grinned and practically leaped into his place, grabbing the gun. 

"Yes!! Oh, danke, Sniper!" 

"Heh. Your welcome, ya bloody wallaby," Mick said with a smile and an eye roll. 

The memory of Mick's arms wrapped around him, showing him how to line up a shot crept into Josef's brain. He was sure to take the stance he'd been shown before, not wanting Mick to laugh at him. When sniper didn't comment, he supposed he must have gotten it right. He looked to the scope.

To his surprise, the magnification was noticeably higher. 

"Oh! This one _is_ impressive! Why exactly is it different from your usual one?"

Sniper shrugged behind him."It's a different gun is all. I call it The Classic. I have a few, like to keep 'em warmed up so I take each out for a spin from time to time. This one's not my favorite, but it's nice." 

"Ah, I'll have to see your others as well!" 

He heard a dramatic sigh behind him and hid a grin. It was endlessly fun to poke fun at Mick, and relieving to not have to walk on eggshells around someone in his life. Mick took everything in stride, was stubborn and sarcastic at times but never hostile towards him. It had been so long since Josef had been trusted, and he'd forgotten how great it felt. 

There was a long silence as medic half-searched for something to shoot, but mostly thought of the gentle smile of the man behind him. 

"...You gonna shoot 'er or not mate?" 

Medic snapped back to the present, feeling his face flush. "Give me a second!" 

"Well alright!" Mick laughed, "No need to get feisty, it is _my_ gun." 

Medic ignored him, sweeping the field below. He spotted movement, and grinned. "I'm going to shoot that light." 

"A light?" 

"Yes, yes." 

Mick chuckled again, "Aight, whatever you need to do mate." 

Medic was certain that Mick's warm chuckle could melt his insides into honey, but he tried to focus on the scope. He aimed at the streetlight above where he knew the BLU spy was hiding, having seen him dart into that corner, knowing it would scare the living daylights out of the nasty excuse of a man. 

He _thought_ he was prepared for the kickback after what happened last time. He wasn't. 

He pulled the trigger, completely missed the light, bullet zooming off into the sky, and was met with the full force of the scope slamming back into his nose. /p>

He sat there, too shocked to do much but blink at the sudden wet flooding his eyes. 

Behind him, mick leaped forward from his relaxed, cross-armed pose. 

"Aw fuck. I shoulda' told you 'bout the recoil, I forgot, sorry mate." 

Josef turned away from the window to find an amused but sympathetic looking sniper crouching next to him. 

"I've done that myself a few times when I was jus' startin' out. Here, let's see." 

Josef was about to say that he was _fine, it's nothing really_ but then his face was taken in micks wide warm hands, and he not only lost the ability to speak either of the two languages he knew, but promptly forgot that he was the one with a medical degree. 

Strong calloused fingers cupped his chin, moving it up, and medic felt a little shiver run through him that he prayed went unnoticed by the Australian. Mick was now inspecting his face closely, tilting it this way and that. Josef couldn't help but note how perfectly his jawline fit into the curve of Mick's palm. Sniper gently prodded the bridge of Josef's nose with a thumb, which made his eyes water a little more. The sniper swiped a thumb under Josef's nose (which admittedly kind of made the Medic feel like an eight year old) and frowned at the blood that came away with it before wiping it off on his own red shirt. One hand was still on Josef's face, practically cupping his cheek, preventing his poor desperate brain from forming a single coherent thought. 

"Looks like you've got a bit of a nose bleed there mate, but you're alright. It's not broken or anything, which is good." Mick smiled in a flash of teeth and straightened medics glasses for him. "And your eyes are fine too, so no concussion or anything, but that would be pretty weird. Couldna' hit you _that_ hard." 

The Aussie booped his nose very gently with his pointer finger. 

"You're alright though," Mick reiterated brightly, "I done that a few times myself." Mick tapped his own nose with a finger. "Though, if your wondering why mines crooked, that's not why." His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Well, maybe that's partly why, but also I got in a fight with an emu. Let's just say, I did not win." He chuckled to himself at the memory. 

Their faces were only a foot apart. That hand was still inexplicably on Josefs face. The sniper didn't seem to realize that it was still there, or that he was absently smoothing up and down Josef's cheek with his thumb. But for Josef it was the only thing he could think about. 

He couldn't control what happened next, the words just kind of burst out of him. 

"Can I see your eyes?" 

Only after he said it did he realized he couldn't stand being this close to Mick and not being able to see his eyes. Those damn reflective aviators were always in the way. He resisted the urge to grab them and hurl them out the window. 

Mick's smile fell away and the sniper stared blankly at him. "Uh, what?" 

Medic coughed and very quickly scrambled to reword his question. "Um, why-uh, why do you wear those glasses all of the time?" 

Mick blinked at him from behind said aviators for a solid second. Then he too coughed and (to Josef's devastation and relief) removed his hand from the doctors face. The hand went to the back of Mick's neck, a sign that he was uncomfortable. He didn't move back though. Josef was glad.

Mick thought about the question. He almost retorted with a snarky 'why do _you_ wear glasses all the time,' but something about Medic's unguarded, albeit bloody, expression made him want to give a real answer. 

He sounded rushed and embarrassed, voice mumbling. "Oh! Uh, well ... a couple a' reasons actually. First, I really do just like' em, and 'course they help with the sun and all. I'm a man of habit and I just kinda started wearin' 'em and never stopped. Second, they're actually color corrective. I'm, uh... I'm color blind, so they help with that. Something bout the lenses, I donno. Makes stuff more vibrant."

That peaked Josef's interest on a scientific level, and he almost interrupted with questions and inquiries, but Mick continued.

"And, uh, lastly... well, they make it so not a lot a' attentions drawn to my eyes." 

Josef cocked his head at that. "Your eyes?" 

"Yeah. So it's not so awkward when, ya know, I talk to people." 

Medic raised an eyebrow. Just how socially awkward _was_ this Australian? "What, like _eye contact_?" 

Mick laughed a little nervously. "I mean, yeah, I s'pose. But it's more than that. To be honest, I'm really just not too fond of 'em." 

"What?" Josef shook his head, clearly confused. 

Mick shrugged, and nodded as if Josef had said something he agreed with. "Yeah. They're weird. Like _real_ weird. Aw, fuck it, it's easier just to show you, I s'pose." He cleared his throat, reached up with both hands, paused for a second as if to convince himself, and pulled the aviators off of his face. 

If it had been anyone else, the medic would have gone off on a little scientific rant, gushing about heterochromia, how fascinating a phenomenon it was and inspecting them from a medical stand point. 

But this wasn't anyone else. This was Mick. And all Josef could do was stare.

One of eye, the right one, was vibrant green. Granny apple, fresh forest, emerald green that made the room look duller around it. 

The other was a deep chestnut mahogany and seemed to suck everything else in like a molten caramel pit. 

Without really meaning to, Josef simply muttered, " Wunderbar," under his breath and reached out to touch just under Mick's right eye. Mick flinched slightly, but didn't draw away. 

To Josef, this was more than a pair of fascinating eyes. This was the first time he'd made any eye contact at all with mick. 

For Mick, this was the first time someone had seen his eyes and not looked apprehensive, like they were afraid one would start spinning in circles or something. And, though he had spent a lot of time guiltily staring at Josef's own set of simple blues, he was surprised at how big a difference it made looking into a pair of eyes that knows you are looking. A pair of eyes that are looking back. 

Mick hated his mismatched eyes. He always had. He hated the way they offset his face, making one eye look smaller than the other, and he hated the way people stared at him. Eye contact was hard enough as it was, without people acting like if they broke it with him the world would end. People already thought he was a freak before they knew about his genetic abnormality. When they did see it, they thought he was a downright mutant.

But this felt different. He didn't feel like Josef was gawking, and he knew Josef didn't think he was a freak. He realized, for the first time, that he _wanted_ Josef to look into his eyes.

He also, suddenly, wanted to kiss him. Badly. Very badly. He really, really wanted to lean in those last few inches and just kiss the fiery little German right then and there. He wanted Josef's bloody, awe-struck, handsome, expressive little face back in his hands and he wanted to draw him forward and run his hands through his dark hair and kiss him. 

He paled as the thoughts flooded his mind and he immediately tried to chase them out of his head. Where the hell had that come from? He shouldn't think that! He shouldn't _want_ that! This was the enemy medic of all people! And a _bloke_ on top of that! Though, now that he thought about it...lets just say a lot of feelings he'd had in high school were making a little more sense. And his classmates _had_ always called him a poofter...

Thoughts were whizzing through his head at the speed of light and then Josef was touching his cheek just below his eye. He spoke softly, saying something that sounded German. Something in the back of Mick's mind took note of which eye the touch lingered under, wondering which eye the doctor preferred. But the forefront of his mind was frozen in fear. Because he was about to lean in and close the distance between his mouth and Medic's and he didn't think he was going to be able to stop himself.

Then, blood started gushing out of the medic's nose at an alarming rate. 

Sniper's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Holy shit!" 

Josef backed off a little, hand leaving Mick's cheekbone and flying to his own to try and catch the fluids now spewing out of his face. "Scheisse! What's happening?" 

Mick laughed, a sudden strange sound of releasing tension, and Josef was struck with being able to see his whole face while he did so. His fascinating eyes crinkled a little around the corners when he smiled. 

Sniper shook his head in amusement. "Wow, guess we should 'a seen _that_ coming. Sure took its time though. Got a cold or something?" 

Josef gave a little laugh himself. "I don't think so?" 

"Huh. Donno then. Prone to nose bleeds?"

"A little." Medic admitted. Sometimes a mere change in the weather was enough to start one. Certainly a good smack to the face. 

The moment, or whatever it had been, was gone. But Mick still had his glasses off, and he pocketed them in his vest as he got to his feet instead off putting them back on. 

Medic handed him back his rifle and allowed himself to be helped up. Mick put a hand on his shoulder. It was perfectly companionable, but they were both critically and incredibly _aware_ of the contact.

"You, alright?" 

Medic nodded, still trying to adjust to those eyes. "Yes, yes, of course. I die horribly everyday, no need to coddle me, I'm fine." His voice was thick from his nose bleed and he swallowed self consciously. 

Mick grinned. "Right then. You are getting blood all over your front though. Just, FYI." 

Josef rolled he's eyes and attempted to combat the blood with a hand. "I'm not a spy, I can handle it." 

"Ah, so _both_ spy's are touchy bout gettin' their suits messed up, huh?" 

Medic laughed through all the blood. He whipped his hands and face off on his white coat, leaving glaring smears of bright red. "I think _all_ spies are touchy about their attire." 

"True." 

"As a doctor I can hardly take such liberties. Why they chose white of all colors for my attire is beyond me," He said distractedly. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of Mick's, though the sniper had broken his gaze back several times, and he could tell the man was getting uncomfortable with the constant unwavering eye contact. To be fair, they _had_ gone from zero to a hundred real quick. He blinked, coming to his senses.

"I'm sorry, I just can't..." 

Mick waved him off, hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck again. "It's alright. Most people stare at 'em, I should be used to it I guess. They're pretty freakish, huh?" 

"Mick, they're incredible." He said sincerely. 

Mick was a little taken aback. Most people agreed with the part about them being freakish. 

The medic smiled at him. "Heterochromia might be rare, but I certainly wouldn't call it freakish."

Mick perked up at the scientific word for the condition. "Oh! You know of it." 

"Yes, of course. I've never had the opportunity to see it in person though. You have a very prominent case. It's beautiful." The word fell out before he could consider the fact that _that_ was probably kind of a weird thing to say to a man who he should be trying to kill. 

Mick went a little wide eyed and he flushed. "Oh. Uh,Thanks." 

Josef had misjudged how expressive the Australian was. Without the barrier of aviators, Sniper showed a lot more emotion than the medic had originally thought he did. It was admittedly hard to focus on anything but his eyes, however, they were quite jarring. That and the fact that he really was incredibly attractive. 

Josef smiled at him amicably, trying to think of something intelligent to say. "And colorblind you say? Which type?" 

Mick stared at him.  
"Uh, I can't say. Didn't know there was more than one."

The medic pulled a confused frown. "How did you know to get the glasses?" 

Mick shied a little, shrugging. "To be honest, my parents got em for me. They'd probably know." 

Josef chuckled. "Alright. Well, what colors do you have trouble with?" 

"Uh, I've got trouble with reds and greens, blues. Oranges too, I think." 

Josef raised a brow. "Well, that can't make distinguishing your teammates very easy." 

Mick laughed. "Yeah, that's where the sunnies come in." 

You mean, other then for concealing you heterochromia from the world?" 

Mick sobered and nodded. "Yeah, but that's more of a helpful aftereffect." 

"Do you're teammates know you have it?"

"Course. It be impossible to wear glasses in the dark all the time and get away with it. They got curious after a while. Don't bother me much about it now, but I still wear 'em."

"Huh. Maybe if you allowed your coworkers a chance to get used to them, they wouldn't notice such a difference. And neither would you." 

Mick didn't really know what to say to that. "I... I guess so." 

Medic sensed his walls around the subject, and decided that was enough pushing for one day. "Well, don't let me change your mind. Simply a suggestion. Do what makes you comfortable, Herr Sniper." 

"Mick," He corrected. 

Josef smiled. "Mick." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Josef just get an anime nose bleed?  
> Yes.Yes he did.
> 
> Also, I know that the color blindness types are red and green or blue and yellow, but i'm stretching reality a little for this fic. Sniper has trouble deciphering red and blue, even though that's not really how it works. I'm not color blind, so I obviously don't know what its like. Sniper having heterochromia and color blindness is just one of my favorite headcannons, I know it's kinda cheesy but hey, let me live.


	14. Our Best Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: A pub in New Mexico. Song: You May Be Right by Billy Joel (mentioned in the text)
> 
> We've got some quality bonding in this chapter! Incoming chapters have lots of dialog, character fun, and super cheesy flirting ;)

The RED Demoman was starting up his clunky old car, laughing at a comment soldier had just made and about to pull out of the dusty sand patch he used as a parking spot at the base, when sniper came wheeling out of the base in a flurry of arms and legs.

He spoke sideways at soldier. "What in the hell? What is long-johns doin'?"

"I think he's coming toward us." Soldier grunted back.

"Shit, you're right."

Sniper trotted up to the window and knocked on it. Demo was already cranking it down.

The explosion export shot him a grin, "Ey Sharps, whatcha needin'?" 

Mick had to bend practically in half to see in the car window.  
"Wondering if I might hitch a ride?"

Demo shared a glance with Solder. If you could call it a glance, with Soldier's eyes covered by his helmet and demo only having one in the first place. It was more of a twitch that they both somehow got the meaning of. Demo went back to the sniper in his window, leaning an elbow out. "I mean, we're heading for the pub in town, Sharps."

"Yeah, I know. Heavy told me. Can I get a ride with you, hate to move the ol' van if I don't have ta."

Demo raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding. "You wannae come. To the pub."

Mick nodded, leaning his forearms on the car to take pressure off his neck form bending so far down for so long. "Yeah."

Demo waited for the punch line. When he didn't get one, his eye darted to Solder again, who gave him a not so subtle shrug. "Uh, are ya sure 'bout that lad?"

Mick frowned slightly. "Yeah?"

The concern in Demo's voice grew, "Really?"

"Really!?" Soldier piped up and the same time. The American just sounded a lot less worried and more excited at the prospect of a new drinking buddy.

The sniper, starting to get annoyed, threw his arms up in exasperation. "Yes! Christ! Yeah, I'm fuckin' sure!"

Soldier grinned. "Wow!"

Demo spoke over his loud and enthusiastic passenger, still worried. "Aye, we'd be happy to have you along mate it's just, you don't drink, yeah? You feelin' alright lad?"

At that, Mick promptly stood stiffly, immediately defensive, and pushed away from the car. "Ya know what demo? Never mind. Forget I asked." Shoving his hand's in his jean pockets, he started off towards the base. 

Demo leaned out the window and waved after him like a madman. Sniper _never_ offered himself up to go anywhere willingly, and Demo wasn't about go and to fuck it up. He was always the one trying to prompt the man into doing something social. It was like some rare animal had come out of hiding. "Ey, wait, wait, wait, Sharps don't be like that. Course you can come mate, get in!"

Mick stopped retreating but didn't come back. "They've got a live band at the bar tonight. Wanted ta see em, that's all."

Soldier leaned forward past demo. "Well why didn't you say that, hippie?!" 

"I don't need fuckin' permission, do I?" The Australian growled.

Demo could feel they were getting the glare of a life time from behind those aviators and gave Soldier a hidden jab to the side. His friend muttered a small, "Ow." Knowing they'd trodden on a sensitive subject, Demo offered the only olive branch he knew of. "Sharps, come. I'll buy you a drink myself if you want, just get in."

Mick sighed, then nodded and stepped forward. "Alright. Thanks, mate."

He clambered in the back seat behind Soldier, barley able to get his legs in after him. He's knees tucked up around his face and his feet couldn't even reach the floor. Demo smacked Soldier again and the American grunted and slid his seat forward a smidge.

Demoman glanced over his shoulder at sniper. "And your actually okay with me drivin'?"

Mick glared blankly at him. "Well you're not drunk yet, yeah?"

"Aye. Alright then off we go, I guess." He gave soldier a wide eyed look before pulling out of the sand patch and heading down the dirt road. 

Mick was silent in the backseat. Soldier sang loudly and terribly to some very American country music he'd found on the radio, and Demo tapped the rhythm out on his steering wheel, checking sniper in the review every once in a while. It was uncharacteristic for the recluse of a man to request to hang out, much less somewhere as public as a bar, and much _much_ less with someone else drive. He hated being driven by other people.

Mick tried to ignore the looks he was getting in the mirror. The truth was, he was actually getting restless in his trailer all alone. Josef was all he could think about, his eyes, his smile... they swirled around in his brain like flies. He kept thinking about how he'd almost kissed him the day before, and that was _not_ something Mick was comfortable with. He needed a mindless night, and there really was a live band playing that he wouldn't mind seeing, and no one was better at having fun than Demo. When he had heard they were going out, he practically forced himself to go. 

The drive wasn't long. Demo parked in front of the pub, on of the first building in the dusty town. It was the nearest place for a few miles in New Mexico. They all climbed out, sniper stretching his long limbs after having them folded up in the back of the car. Soldier and Demo chatted as headed inside, Sniper tagging along as their awkward shadow.

This wasn't a nice town. People in this town didn't get to know each other. People came to this town to disappear. But everyone knew who the Mann Co workers were, though no one knew what they did, and everyone knew not to mess with them. The merc's didn't come into to town much, but when they did they weren't bothered. According to the town folk they could get away with pretty much anything if they really wanted to, but professionalism and Miss Pauline generally kept them in line. 

When the three entered the bar, a few heads turned their direction. The bar was busy enough that not all attention was on them, but the amount that was made the atmosphere a bit tense. Luckily, Demo was one of the less feared, not because he was any less dangerous but he was simply far more friendly. Soldier was offensive, abrasive, and loud but at least he wasn't silent so he was generally accepted or at least tolerated. The two were here enough that the bar was comfortable with their presence. Sniper however, had rarely ever been here. No one could tell how to act around him, and it certainly did make him feel any better about it.

Currently he wanted to melt into a corner. Oh god, why the _hell_ had he come here? Walking stiffly after demo and soldier, he kept his head down and avoided eye contact.

When three settled at a pool table, Demo already halfway through a beer and soldier trying to drink two at once, Sniper finally started to relax. People had lost interest in them, and Demo had at least had the wits to pick a table in the back. Mick had asked a short tough-looking barkeep, who reminded him of Engie for some reason, if they had coffee. They didn't, so he didn't get anything.

Demo looked around with a curious eye. "Ey shapes, where's that band you were talkin' about?"

Mick shrugged. "Don't start till later, I guess."

They played a few rounds of pool, both Demo and Soldier getting utterly destroyed in the game by the marksmen, who had found his skill in sniping transferred to a few more everyday things. By a two-to-one vote they moved on to darts, where Demo and Soldier were left even father behind Sniper's wake. He was unsure why they thought their chances at beating him would be better at the second game, but he wasn't the type to let others win.

Demo landed a dart in the wall, growing at Sniper's perfect bullseye. "My god mate! There anything you're not good at?" 

Sniper shrugged. "Uh, if it doesn't involve aim, I'm rubbish at it."

The Scotsman laughed. "Thank god you're not a demoman then."

"Heh. You got me there."

Soldier chucked three darts at a time, two of them hitting it sideways and clattering to the ground. Sniper was beginning to question if the man actually knew how to play. "Demoman, you always told me it was your death procession that made you loose with such humiliation!" He announced.

Sniper blinked at him. As much as he liked Demo, he had yet to gain any amount of understanding of the man's best friend. "Excuse me?'

Demo rolled his eye. " _Depth perception_ , you bloody idiot, and aye, I'll admit I'm runnin' a bit short on it."

The trio continued their light banter and casual game, as the evening ebbed and the Saturday night crowd started to gather.

Josef took a deep breath, then blew it out his noise in a long sigh. It was late, and he'd found himself a spot on one side of the large U of the bar, settled on a stool. It was finally the weekend which meant he could freely leave his base, and thus his teammates, and could actually have some time to himself. He hated that he had to spend his alone time in a crowd of people, he would much rather spend it in his lab doing something productive, but here no one hated him. No one trusted him, but that meant they would't talk to him either. 

A new song came on, live this time, and he absently realized a live band had set up. They played something catchy and American, he didn't know it but he was sure he had heard it before. The band wasn't all that bad, but he found himself blocking out the vaguely familiar music. 

The doctor jumped when something glopped into his drink, splashing the alcohol up onto him. He peered angrily over the rim at the foreign object now bobbing in his drink, noted that it was in fact a decrotive olive, and looked up and around for the source. 

Far across the bar, seated at the other side of the U, someone was smirking at him. Looking directly at him with that little grin. An extremely familiar grin. In spite of the lack of a RED uniform, Sniper was unmistakable. 

_No way._ Josef's eyebrows traveled up his forehead. He had _not_ just made that shot. 

The Red sniper smiled wider and he started to bounce his head to the beat of the music. He appeared to be alone. Josef did a quick sweep of the bar, and did't see any other members of the RED team in the crowd.

Lowering his eyes and pretending to ignore the Australian, Josef spooned the olive out of his cup with his fingers. Without looking up, he started to nod the the music too, letting his shoulders sway. He could practically feel micks eyes on him. He acted nonchalant, but allowed the faintest smile to play on his lips. He glanced back up at sniper.

Micks eyes were trained on him as the Aussie silently started to mouth the words along with the song from across the bar.

_Hit me with your best shot!_

Josef stared back at him. Mick grinned and continued mouthing along.

_Why don't you hit me with your best shot?_

Josef felt his chest tightened. Dear god could the Australian get any cuter?

Mick pointed at him and danced his shoulders back and forth.

_Hit me with your best shot!_

Josef snorted a laugh upon being pointed at in such an unexpected manner. Sniper was unusually expressive today, apparently.

_Fire awaaaaaaaay!_

Mick nodded at Josef, his dance-point turning into purposeful gesture. Josef looked down at the olive in his hand. He laughed, catching on, and drew it back-

-and threw it directly into the barkeeps face as he walked between them.

Medic felt his face flood with a blush. "Oh! Oh Scheisse, I am sorry!" He apologized to the rather surprised bartender. He could hear Mick's throaty laugh from across the bar. He would normally be very embarrassed by being caught in such childish behavior, and he had a very good reputation here and had something close to a companionship with this particular barkeep, but if it made Mick laugh like _that_ , he didn't mind at all. He'd do just about anything. He fought to keep a grin off his face.

The barkeep didn't look particularly offended, as the olive had only bounced harmlessly off his forehead, but he did look more than a little concerned for Josef's state of mind. He turned to see the sudden source of laughter behind him, and snorted when he caught on. Rolling his eyes, he wordlessly plopped another olive into Mick's glass, and went back to serving other drinkers. 

Mick was still laughing, and attempting to fish the olive out of his drink. His laughter was infectious, even from this distance, and soon had Josef giggling quietly. He made some cheesy finger guns, and, having caught onto the few repetitive words of the song, mouthed the words and fired them at mick. 

_Hit me with your best shot._

The sniper laughed and threw the olive back at him. Josef tried to catch it, but failed spectacularly and it landed perfectly in his drink again, splashing him. He grinned, letting childish energy fill him and sticking his hand in his drink to grab the olive before hurling it back at Mick.

It didn't hit anyone this time, but he missed by about three feet and the grinning sniper had to lean out pretty far to catch it. Not much could be said for Josef's aim, and he felt the flush stay steady on his face. Good thing mick had long arms.

Mick threw it again, making another perfect shot into Josef's glass. Much of the drink was now on the table or on Josef's shirt collar, but the doctor barely noticed he was so caught up in the moment. He snatched the olive and stood up on the bottom rung of his bar stool, leaning against the bar to steady his shot. He was short enough that his feet didn't reach all the way to the ground when seated, and standing on the rungs didn't sadly little for his height. Closing one eye and with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he aimed and threw the olive. 

Mick stood on his own bar stool rungs, which added to his height considerably, to tried and catch the olive in his teeth. He over shot, and the olive hit his neck. He caught it in his hands, laughing, and tossed it back into Josef's glass effortlessly. Another hit to the doctors pride.

Josef dug it out of his glass, stilled himself against the bar, then threw it again, going for an arch. Mick leaned back, almost falling off his bar stool and loosing his hat, but managed to catch it in his mouth. Josef threw his arms up in the air with a whoop of victory while Mick chewed with a grin.

Suddenly mick slid off his stool and dipped to snatch up his fallen hat then, keeping eye contact with Josef for as long as he could before disappeared into the bar crowd. Josef looked around, waiting for him to reappear.

"Come here often?"

Josef whipped in his seat around to find Mick standing directly behind him. He almost fell off his bar stool trying to compose himself. "Oh!"

Mick grinned leaned against the bar next to him, still chewing the olive. Josef smiled and leaned his arms on the bar too. "Not too often. But enough to know when the good bartender shifts and when the good bands play."

Mick nodded, looking a little more serious. "Oh, this band isn't new?"

Josef raised a brow. "Not by a -how do you say- long shot? How _little_ do you come here, Herr Sniper?"

Mock snorted, grabbing Josef's drink and eyeing the contents. "Grand total of twice in six years. This makes it three times, I s'pose." He downed what was left in the glass.

Jose blinked in surprise as Mick finished off his drink. He didn't really mind, as he had just been stinking his hands in it a few moment prior, but it was a little bold for the Mick he knew. Or was coming to know. In fact all of Mick's behavior this evening had been rather outlandish when compared to his usual shy nature. 

Josef wondered just how much mick had had to drink. "Wow. That is very rarely. Are you here alone?"

Mick shook his head, but contradicted himself by grunting, "Yeah." At Medic's confused look, he waved a hand and explained, "Came here with a couple a' teammates, but they did't wanna stick 'round for the music. Left 'bout an hour ago."

The Australian grabbed a stool and dragged it close so he could sit. He regarded josef seriously. "Can I...buy you a drink? I did slop most of your old one on your shirt."  
He pointed at the doctor's wet collar.

Josef laughed. "I don't see why not."

Mick nodded and waved at the bartender, who didn't look a bit surprised to see him on the other side of the bar, and held up Josef's empty glass. The barkeep nodded.

Mick chuckled. "Love that. You don't even 'ave to say anything. Just point a grunt and the bloody buggar'll know what you want."

Josef tilted his head to his companion. "Sniper?"

The man shook his head. "Mick," He corrected.

"Mick?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I asked you a question?"

Josef got a pair of amused eyebrows over the aviators. Now that he'd seen what lay behind them, he couldn't help but want to see Mick's eyes again. He wondered how on earth Mick could even see in the already low lit bar. Maybe he could convince him to take them off again.

"I believe you just asked me three, but shoot." Mick said amicably.

Medic swallowed. It felt like a risk, but Mick's unusually loose demeanor made him feel confident in asking, "What is your opinion of me?"

The Sniper froze up. "What?"

"What do you think of me? Your...opinion?"

Any amount of confidence fell out of Sniper's shoulders. "What? You can't just ask me that!"

Josef couldn't help but smile. "Why not?"

Micks brow furrowed, like he wasn't really sure how to answer that. "Well. I donno, you can't just _ask_ someone what the think of you."

"Well, why not?" The medic laughed softly.

Mick blinked. "I...donno."

Josef folded his hands on the counter. "Well, let's break the rules then. Tell me what you think of me, and I'll tell you what I think of you."

"Well alright then smart guy," Sniper answered with a chuckle.

The barkeep set a drink wordlessly in front of them. There were two olives in it. 

Mick regarded him for a second, eyes narrowed in thought. "I think you're...I donno. You're a doctor. Good one, far as I can tell. Don't think you get a chance to show your full potential out on the field though. The medigun's too easy for you, you're made for the nitty gritty, save-a-life-with-ya-bare-hands kinda stuff. You're... You're _different_ , from other meds I mean. At least any I've ever met. _Anyone_ I've ever met, really. Donno what it is." A smile crept into his face, unannounced. "Your impulsive, intelligent, and messy, uh... Proud, feisty, funny as hell too." Red crept into his cheeks that had nothing to do with alcohol. "Christ, did I really just say all that?" To the medics surprise, Mick slid off his aviators and rubbed his eyes behind them. He didn't put them back on, just stuffed them in his shirt pocket instead. 

Well, so much for needing to convince him of anything. 

Mick held up his own drink, the one he'd brought over with him. "This stuff really does make a difference, don't it?"

Josef blinked at him. _Did Mick really think all that about him?_ He wondered just how much alcohol Mick had consumed, it sounded from his description like he'd been at the pub for a while. To anyone else he might not seem very intoxicated, but Josef could tell his lack of shy gentleness didn't just have to do with meeting in a different setting than usual. The sniper's eyes were bright and excited, and just as awe-inspiring and distracting as the first time Josef had seen them.

"Yes," Josef agreed, trying not to stare at his eyes again, "And how much have you had?"

Mick squinted as he thought. "Lets see I had this once already." He held up the olive filled drink. "And I had what was left of yours. Think it's called a tycoon. Sounded cool, I donno."

Josef looked amused, in spite of attempts at trying to keep his face schooled. "Oh. Wow."

"What."

"That's...not much. The alcohol content ads up to... one beer? Maybe?"

Sniper shrugged. "Huh. More than I've had in...two years?"

"Oh?" Josef responded, nodding conversationally to hide his surprise.

Mick was looking at him expectantly, and Josef got caught like a fish in his mismatched gaze. 

"So. What's the low down?" The Australian prompted.

"What?" He said dumbly.

"About me. What do you think about me?"

Josef stared. He had no idea how to answer that. Before he had to think of something appropriate to say, Mick's eyes widened and a little smile spread over his features.

"Oi, wait, I know this song!" He bounced his head to it, grinning at the music. 

Josef just watched. He didn't really think he was physically capable of doing much else. He hadn't even heard the band begin a new song, and it didn't ring an bells for him, but it now had his full attention. Mick started to sing along, low and smooth with time and on pitch. Just like that day back on the field. He defiantly didn't sound drunk, just smooth and relaxed. His voice was a million times better than the singers, and Josef felt like the song was suddenly solely sung for him.

_"I've been stranded in the combat zone,  
I walked through Bedford-Stuy alone,  
An' rode my motorcycle in the raaain."_

Mick kept unwavering eye contact with Josef as he sang, grinning and tapping the table along to the beat, bobbing his head. He sang with some kind of faked American accent that Josef didn't quite recognize. It sounded a little like he was badly copying Scout.

_"And you told me not to drive,_  
_But I made it home alive,  
So you said that only goes to proves that I'm insaaaaane."_

In the brief music pause, he hopped of his chair and froze until the beat came back.

_"...You may be right!!"_

He danced a few gangly steps around Josef. 

_"I may be crazy."_

Jose had no idea he was laughing, he was so caught up in the moment and in Mick.

_"But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for."_

Josef suddenly found himself with Mick's stetson on his head, which was tugged playfully over his face.

_"Turn out the light!_  
_Don't try and save me.  
You may be wrong for all I know, but you may be right!"_

Mick laughed freely and sat back down, leaving his hat on Josef's head. The medic felt honored, like he'd just been entrusted with something precious and sacred, and he had absolutely no intention of taking it off. It smelled like leather and wood-smoke and sand, and he resisted the urge to pull it over his face and bury himself in the sent. That would probably be too weird, and the last thing he wanted was Mick to leave. He pulled the back brim down a bit so he could see, but the hat was a tad too big on him, and fell forward again. 

__

__Mick sighed and spoke, sweet nostalgia heavy in his voice. "God, I haven't heard this song in ages."_ _

__

__Situating the hat further back on his head so it stayed, Josef admitted, "I don't think I've ever heard this song."_ _

__

__Mick made wide eyes at him."What! Wow. Love this song."_ _

__

__"I can see that!"_ _

__

__The sniper laughed and rubbed through his hat-less hair, which was messy and tussled, with a hand."Oh, heh yeah. I love music, if you couldn't tell that already."_ _

__

__"Do you play anything?"_ _

__

__"Sax." He said immediately. Then reluctantly added, "Well, I used to."_ _

__

__Medic tilted his head in question. "Why'd you stop?"_ _

__

__Mick shrugged sadly. "Had to sell it. Can't play without an instrument."_ _

__

__"Oh, I'm sorry."_ _

__

__"Nah." He shrugged, "You play somethin'?"_ _

__

__"I-" Josef started, then examined his hands onto of the bar table. "-I used to, as well."_ _

__

__"Why not anymore?"_ _

__

__He chuckled softly. "It was a long time ago. Also, I don't have a violin."_ _

__

__Mick eyes lit up. "Ooooh the violin, huh?"_ _

__

__"Yes."_ _

__

__"I'd love to hear you play it someday."_ _

__

__Josef smiled. "Likewise. I think that it would be fun."_ _

__

__The both decided to ignore how illogical that was, considering their position. And the fact that they were enemies. The thought of finding time or space to play music together as rival mercenaries was ludicrous._ _

__

__Mick downed the rest of his drink and eyed the olives in the otherwise empty glass. Josef reached over boldly and snatched both, tossing them in his mouth and grinning evilly at mick. The sniper's stetson chose that moment to slip down over his eyes._ _

__

__Mick laughed and reached over to straighten it out. They locked eyes once Josef's were uncovered, and neither of them moved._ _

__

__Mick shook himself and released the hat brim but looked at Josef for a while. His eyes darted between Josef's and widened before looking back at his empty cup. "Yeah, I'm gonna need something stronger than this."_ _

__

__Josef blinked. What broke the moment? He felt like something had happened, but what exactly he had no idea. Was he being intimidating? He'd been told before he could be quite blunt. "Really?" He prompted, attempting to regain eye contact._ _

__

__For some reason Mick's eyes flashed up to Josef's lips. They widened a little more as they lingered there."Yep." Mick sounded a little hoarse._ _

__

__Josef wondered if there was something on his face._ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other song mentioned is Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar
> 
> Next chapter picks up right were this one leaves off, which is why it might seem a little abrupt. Next should be up soon <3


	15. Drinks and Dares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: A pub in New Mexico. Song: Das kann uns keiner nehmen by Revolverheld.
> 
> More drunken flirting! Sniper is a huge lightweight and I think that is hilarious.

Micks eyes hadn't left Josef's face yet, and they suddenly caught a wild look of excitement that made the doctor's heart jump. 

"Oh! Hey let's um, let's like do a- play a drinking game!" The sniper said enthusiastically.

Josef gave a surprised chuckle. "Excuse me?"

Mick appeared to be set on the idea now. "Yeah, yeah! People do that right, drinking games? Challenges or whatever, right?"

Josef blinked, confused smile forming on his face, trying to imagine Sniper playing beer pong with him. "Well...yes, I suppose."

Mick grinned, eyes crinkling adorably at the edges in that way Josef was sure he'd never grow accustom to. "Well, what do you say? Think you can take me?"

Medic -who had no intention of getting wasted tonight, had thoroughly tenacious guts of hard steely German fortitude, and was beginning to suspect Mick to be the lightest lightweight to ever darken their lips with liquor- had no idea what possibly could possess him to say yes. 

His brain had different plans. "Ja, alright. I'll take you up on that."

Micks resulting grin made its way on the list of possible reasons he just said yes. 

"Aces! Let's do that then! Okay, we need shots right? Let's get some of those. Hahaha, Jesus how do you even fuckin' order shots?"

"Shots are not always custom for a drinking game, but I suppose it'll work." Josef took it upon himself to order them some shots, feeling like he was getting drinks with a teenager who had smuggled a fake ID instead of a man well into his thirties.

Mick drummed his hands on the table as they waited. "Do you know any?"

Josef raised his brows. "Any what, drinking games? None that can be played with only two. I haven't done anything like that since...college maybe? Possibly med school?"

"Okay, well, we need something... how about...truth or dare?"

"What!" The medic laughed out loud at the suggestion.

Mick blushed a bit but nodded, "Yeah, truth or dare -you've played truth or dare right?"

"I mean, _yes_ but.."

Mick grinned and raised his hands in mini celebration. "Yay, that make two of us! To be honest with ya, it's probably gonna be the only thing both of us know."

"Really? Who on earth did _you_ play truth or dare with?" He tried to imagine Sniper as a teenager playing spin the bottle and other such games.

Mick frowned. "Oi, what do you mean by that!? Who the hell did you play with?"

"Friends. I must admit I was very popular in secondary school." Josef explained.

"Huh, course ya were."

"But I find it...improbable that you were as well."

"Yeah, guess you got that right." Mick laughed but he did look a little sad. He was usually harder to read then this, but Josef chalked it up to the alcohol content in his system, as little as it may be at the moment.

Josef quickly continued. "Only because you are incredibly introverted. _Usually_..." He added quietly to himself. Mick didn't hear it the last word.

"Ha, yeah that's true. But I mean, you gotta understand, I've always been like that. And I grew up in Australia. I had height on almost all of 'em, but that doesn't do much when you look like a hatstand and every other teen you know is built like Reg bloody Park. I hid in tree most of the time."

"Ha," Medic laughed, not unkindly, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Always been good at climbing." He mused.

"So I'm guessing you didn't make many friends up there to play childish games with?"

"Yeah, 'fraid not."

Josef nodded knowingly. "As I thought."

"Oi!"

With a mischievous grin, Josef sat his chin in his hands, elbows on the bar. "So who _did_ you play with?"

Sniper looked away, suddenly interested in inspecting the rim of his glass. "Well, it's kinda embarrassing.."

Josef poked his arm with an encouraging, "Oh come now."

Mick eyed him from the side before admitting in a voice both amused and slightly embarrassed. "Scout."

The doctor's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "Scout!!"

"Yeah."

"Your scout- your current scout?"

"Yeah!"

"W-" Josef stuttered, baffled, "-why!?"

Mick grinned, shrugging, "Base lost power in a snow storm for bout a week a few years ago. The little bugger got stir crazy and forced us to play every game he could think of. He got Demo, Soldier, Pyro, and Engie to play, pretty easy. I refused a' course, until Demo told me Spy owed him a favor -for what I donno- and said he'd cash it in to make Spy play. That's something I had to see, so I played."

"Was it fun?" Josef asked, looking fascinated by the story.

Mick blinked at him, like he hadn't really expected that question. "Yeah, it was actually."

Once they had their shots lined up, Josef began to realize how terrible of an idea this was. The amount of confidence boost Mick had undergone from two drinks -actually a drink and a half- with less alcohol content then a wine cooler, he very much doubted that the man would be able to get home after _one_ shot, let alone four. But for some reason, beyond reason, he was doing it anyway.

"Alright," Josef said, grinning at the feeling doing something that felt so stupid "How does this work?"

"You know better than me, mate."

"How do we make truth or dare into a drinking game?"

Mick pursed out his lips in thought. "Easy. You chook out, you drink. And if you do go belly up, you gotta do the other thing. Like if you decided _not_ to answer a truth you've gotta do a dare. And visa versa."

Josef jabbed a finger at him at the word, stopping his explanation, "Wait- visa versa. I've heard that phrase before and honestly have no idea what it means."

"It means 'what I just said but backwards. And sideways.'"

Josef raised an eyebrow, not one hundred percent sure he understood any better than he had before. "Well alright then." He picked up the first shot. "Shall we take one to start us off, opponent?"

Mick grabbed the first shot in his row and eyed the contents. "What even is it?"

Josef laughed. "Some say it's liquid courage, mein friend."

Mick grinned. "Good enough for me. Let's go." He held out the tiny glass for a cheers, which Josef couldn't help but comply to, and they threw back the liquor, slamming the empty glasses back on the table.

Mock made a very concerning noise, and started coughing. Josef started to ask if he was alright, but he waved his hands. "No- uhhg- nah mate I'm -guurkh- I'm fine. You start, yeah?" he choked out.

Concerned for his opponent's well being, Medic spoke tentatively. "Alright. Truth or dare, Herr Sniper?"

Mick chewed his lip, still kind of coughing. "Let's see. Truth, how 'bout? Start us off easy, yeah?"

Josef scoffed, trying to think of something to ask. There were a million things he _wanted_ to ask, but none of which that either of them were anywhere near drunk enough for him to be asking. "Alright mick, what was your most humiliating death?"

A big grin spread over Mick's face. "Christ, let's see..."

Neither of them thought to question the fact that it was weird for them to be able to ask that, and weirder still to be easily answerable for them. Josef could see Mick think of a good answer by the little crinkle in the sides of his eyes. He was endlessly glad the sniper had never put his glasses back on.

"So I'm colorblind yeah?" He started, turning toward Josef, leaning one arm on the bar.

"Oh this should be good."

"Yeah, so, this was years ago, way before I worked with you. I'd lost my glasses at the beginning of a round, don't remember how, but luckily I had Engie put them in the respawn system along with the rest of my gear, so if they break or whatever while on field they are reset along with everything else. But see, I hadn't died yet so I still didn't have them. That means I miss about 40% of the shots I usually could take cause I can't fucking tell the difference between teams from that distance. I mean, just the direction they're facing is usually a dead give away, so some shots are a safe bet, and I usually focus on the other sniper and can't exactly get that wrong. But still. Anyway so I'm tryin' to snipe and I hear something behind me so I whip around, and my Spy casually walks in a says good morning all casual-like, 'cept I think it's BLU Spy waltzin' in so I trip backwards while tryin' to find my kukri, and I fall out the window."

Laughter rose in Josef's chest, "Haha! Mien gott!"

Mick shook his head, "Aw, no that's not even the worst of it. I wish that was the worst of it. Nah mate, as I fall out the window my bloody trousers get caught on a nail. Ripped my fuckin' pants clean off to the ankle. So I'm hanging there, about eighteen feet off the ground by one leg in nothing but my skivvies, flailing around, and I drop my kukri, my knife? Yeah?" He held up his hands in an approximation of the knife size.

Josef nodded that he knew the knife Mick spoke of, urging him to go on.

"Yeah, so I drop that, and try to grab at it, but the movement rips me off the nail and I fall and fucking kebab myself on my own knife two stories down, ass up, right at the actual BLU Spy's feet. And he looks down all surprised, and the last thing I see is the shock and amusement on his smug face as I die."

By this point both of them were laughing.

"Oh my!" Josef wiped his eyes. "I'm _so_ glad I asked!"

Mick shook his head, chuckling."Oh god. Alright it's your turn now ya prick, pick your poison. Truth or dare?"

Josef tapped his fingers chin, still resting it in the cup of his hands, before settling on an option. "Truth."

"Alright let's see...truth...." Mick's eyes took on a slightly evil look as he thought of something. "Alright wallaby, what's the weirdest thing you've ever been arrested for?"

Josef couldn't help the doomed grin that spread over his face. "Oh _no_."

"Oh _yes._ "

Josef glared sideways at him. "Why do you just assume I've been arrested? Or that it for something weird?"

Mick rolled his eyes, "Because there's no way in hell _you_ haven't been arrested. And I bet my fucking left man-tit that it was for something weird."

Josef burst out laughing again and Mick blushed, "What?"

"You just say the funniest things sometimes Herr Sniper, ha!" The tiny voice in the back of Medic's mind waved its tiny red flag at just how much that sounded like flirting. Which obviously was not what was going on here. Right?

Mick appeared to not give any shits. "Oh come on, you know I'm right. Drink or spill, your choice."

"Alright alright, yes I have been arrested-"

"Haha, see!"

"Multiple times-"

"I knew it!"

"Shut up, and yes most of them were pretty weird..."

"Brilliant."

Medic huffed good-naturedly out his nose in false annoyance. "So, the weirdest one... let's see, it was a little over ten years ago. I was just beginning med school, and I was doing a project for my biochem class that I needed fresh organs for."

"Oh god."

"Yes, and my friend's parent's lived near by and their cow had just passed away, so I went down there with a trash bag -a clear one by the way because that's all we had- and a wheelbarrow. I removed the stomach, liver and heart, and piled them into my wheelbarrow. They were huge, it was a very big cow, and I could hardly carry it myself. So I'm making my way back towards campus with my cargo, and you have to walk up this very large hill to get from the town to the entrance, ja? So I'm walking, and some stray dogs caught the sent of the cow organs, and I can hear them barking and I know to run. So I'm running up with hill with a wheelbarrow full of massive cow organs and three mangy wild dogs chasing me. It was enough to attract the attention of a cop, who scared off the dogs with pepper spray, but when I tried to stop so I could explain myself, the wheelbarrow tipped over and a bloated cow liver hit the ground and exploded on impact, coating the police officer in blood. Let's just say my cargo was confiscated and I spend that night in a cell.

Mick shook his head. "I can't decided if I'm glad I asked or wish I hadn't."

Josef shrugged and chuckled, "I was honestly kind of glad not to have to carry the organs all the way up that hill."

"Ha! Alright well my turn."

"Right, yes, I'll try to make it more difficult. Truth or dare, mein friend." Something stuttered in Medic's chest as he said the words. Did Mick consider him a friend? Was it okay for him to say that? The sniper didn't seem put off by it.

"Truth."

"Another truth? Really? Alright then let me see..."

Mick grinned and ran a finger around the edge of one of his shot glasses, chin in his other hand and eyes on Josef. Josef swallowed and tried not to stare at the appealing sight.

Josef would never know what had gotten into him when he said, "Alright I've got one; what is your weirdest fantasy?"

Micks eyes bugged slightly as Medic thew back his head to laugh.

"Excuse me?" The Australian blubbered,

"Your strangest fantasy. Let's hear it, ja?"

Mick tried laughing it off but he couldn't laugh off his blush. He shook his head, picking up his next shot. "Yeah...nope." He tipped it back. 

Josef derived a fair amount of amusement from the obvious amount of unfamiliarity sniper exchanged with the liquid. "Well now I'm very curious."

Mick made a face and coughed. "Too- ahgcht- too bloody bad, hooligan. Now, truth or dare?"

Medic made a little tisk sound. "Ah, Sniper, you seem to have forgotten your own rule."

"What?"

"You did not admit the truth so now you must submit to the dare, isn't that what you said?"

"Ooooh yeah, you're right. Alright ya mongrel, fire away."

Medic rubbed his hands together. "Excellent. Let see....I dare you, Herr Sniper, to take off your belt-"

Mick raised both his eyebrows at that.

Josef held up a finger, "Wait, I'm not finished- _without_ using your hands."

The sniper stared at him before his face finally split into a hopelessly confused, but amused, expression. 

"What? Ha, how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

Medic shrugged. "It's that or tell me your strangest fantasy, Monsieur."

Mick blinked in confusion. "Wait that was French, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. Now don't change the subject."

Mick grinned. "Jesus Christ how am I gonna do this." He regarded his belt buckle coldly. He looked back up to find Josef watching him with wonderfully amused eyes. "Ah stop gaskin at me, I'm all pressured now. How the hell am I supposed to do this?" Mick shook his head. "Well let's see, if I..."

He spent the next three minutes edging the belt free centimetre by centimetre using his elbows and wild twisting while Josef grinned and just watched him suffer until they were both breathless from laughing. They earned more than a few perplexed looks from other bar goers, but neither of the pair noticed. Mick finally, somehow, got the accessory unlatched. He cheered.

"Yes! Holy bloody mother of god! There ya go, you bloody demon. You happy now?"

Josef laughed and nodded. "I must say, that was quite a show."

"Shut up. Jesus, I should get some kinda prize for that, damn. Can I put my belt back on now?"

Josef rolled his eyes. "Why are you asking me, yes of course you can."

"Right." Mick latched his belt again (using his hands this time) and turned his eyes to Josef. 

"Oh you are gonna get it for that. Truth or dare, mongrel."

Medic grinned. He was in a great mood and willing to be adventurous. "Dare."

Micks eyes lit up, and Josef found himself caught in them once again. "Ooooh! Dare....let's see..." he squinted while he thought, and the medic thought it was just about the cutest face anyone could possibly make. Then he grinned excitedly, and Medic realized he had thought wrong. That grin was the cutest face anyone could possible make.

"Oh okay, I got something. I don't think it's quite as evil as yours was, but what can I say, I’m a pacifist."

“You kill people for a living.”

“I...shut up.”

"Alright, what is it?"

"I dare you, _Monsieur_ " He said the word exaggeratedly, playfully mocking. Josef realized he could detect the tiniest amount of slurred speech, and realized Sniper was just as much of a lightweight as he suspected. "-I dare you....to speak with my accent for the rest of the game."

Josef slowly reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose in fake annoyance, but couldn't stop his grin. "Oh no.."

"Oh yes."

"Sniper I.." he could _feel_ Mick's entertained eyes on him.

"You what?"

"I'm bad enough at English as is!"

Mock flapped a hand at him. "You know that's not true. C'mon. Don't chicken out on me now!"

"Ugh, I'm terrible at W's and they are _all you speak!_ " He stressed.

Mick shrugged. "That mean your chickening out?"

Josef groaned. He didn't mind the shot so much as the hit to his pride. "Nein. I'll do it. Say something so I can pay attention please."

Mick grinned and nodded."Alright, let's see. We're in a pub, uh, in town. Doin' shots and actin like a couple a little shits, yeah?" He winked wickedly.

Josef went pink and cleared his throat, informing Mick, "This is going to be terrible."

"It better be. I'm counting on it."

"Okay...ahem; 'Al- alwroit," Josef struggled adorably with making a 'W' sound instead of his usual 'V', let alone adding Mick's signature Aussie twang. "Let's see. W-we are in a pub, in town. Doin' shots 'n acting- actIN' - like a couple o' li'l shets, yeah?"

Mick was laughing silently into his hand.

Josef tried to maintain any dignity he had left. "'How was zhat- ah- THat, eh mate?" Josef asked jerkily. 

Mick smiled behind his hand. "Bloody brilliant, mate."

"Aces."

"Alright Mr. fair dunkam Aussie, my turn."

"Truth o' dae?"

Mick shook his head, snickering, "Dae"

"Brilliant, let's see, mate." Josef glance around for something to spark his creativity. It didn't take long for him to see the pen in Mick's vest pocket. "Kay, I got it."

"Kay."

"I dae' ya to lemme draw whateva' i vant- atch- want." He broke out of the accent for a second. " Want, _want_ , how do you say that?"

Mick cascaded into giggles. "Want. It's just want mate, it's not brain surgery."

Josef frowned. "I know."

"No ha, that's- that's a phrase, oh just tell me the dare."

Josef nodded, continuing, "Allow me to draw whateva' I _want_ on ya forehead with that." He pointed at the pen.

Mick looked down and took a second to spot it. "Oh god. Yeah, okay." He gabbed at the pen and missed. He tried again, and held it out to Josef, then leaned forward towards him. For the briefest second, Josef thought he was going to be kissed. Then his brain caught up to his hammering heart.

Completely oblivious to the medic's internal screaming, Mick muttered, "Please don't draw a donger." 

Josef scoffed and tried to ignore how close Mick's face was. "Oh Please, I'm not tasteless."

"Hey, that was _not_ an Aussie accent, mate." 

Josef rolled his eyes and uncapped the pen. "Ugh- mate, I'm na bloody tasteless. Danga' koala kangaroo." 

Mick blinked slowly at him with shaded eyes, unimpressed. "Wow. That was both wrong _and_ offensive."

Josef grinned. "Thanks, mate." He leaned forward with the pen. Mick tried to relax his forehead, but kept smiling and twitching. Josef gave up trying to find the right moment to write on his forehead and flicked his forehead, laughing. "Stay still, dummkopf!"

"Ow, sorry!" Mick leaned closer to rest his elbows on his knees. "Okay, okay I'mma stay still." He closed his eyes and relaxed his mouth into a line, pulled up only the slightest bit at the corners.

Josef froze and stared openly at mick. His eyes traced over his exposed hair and eyelashes on their own accord, desperately taking it all in before the Aussie could open his eyes again and catch him looking. All Josef wanted to do reach out and- 

He shook his head. He had to concentrate. He did reach over, but with the pen. He leaned the heel of his palm against micks forehead to steady his hand and tried to think of what to write. His mind was completely blank. He felt mick lean in a little against his hand and warm breath on the inside of his arm, and his mind went from blank to out of commission please try again later.

After a breif pause, Mick's breath played across his forearm again as he spoke."You gonna write somethin'?"

"Yes, in thinking."

"Well think faster, my neck's getting tired."

"Too bad."

"Ugh."

Josef took Mick's chin with his other hand to steady it, making sure not to caress it too much, and wrote the word _donger_ across micks forehead in big letters.

"There."

Mick opened his eyes, his chin still in Josef's hand. He smiled softly, before sitting up out of his grasp and going cross eyed at his own forehead.  
"Ah hell, whatcha' write?"

Josef grinned and tried to forget the warm feeling of stubble under his fingers, letting his hand fall belatedly from where it had held Mick's face. "Something oh-so eloquent."

"Oh no."

Josef laughed and sat leaning foreword with his hands on the bar stool, legs on either side. "Truth." He urged, having dropped the fake accent, but Mick didn't seem to notice.

Mick squinted at him. "Hey, I ain't even asked you yet!"

"Truth."

"Fine." The Aussie poked at the word on his forehead, trying to think. "Do you think my accent is sexy?"

Josef choked on his own spit and coughed inconspicuously. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Do I think the Australian accent is sexy?"

"No no, do you think _my_ accent is sexy?"

Josef's brows tilted down. "You...have an Australian accent."

"Yeah, but everyone sounds a bit different don't they? In their own way. No matter what accent you have."

"So you mean your voice. And do I think yours is sexy?"

Mick gave a serious dip of his head. "Yep. And tell the truth now."

Josef shook his head and rolled his eyes. What the hell, the way Mick was deteriorating he probably wouldn't remember this anyway. "Yes, I do. I think your way of speech could be considered as sexy."

Micks eyes went wide and he leaned forward a bit. "Really!"

"Really. Although cute would probably be more suitable."

Mick went as pink as he was speechless.

Josef resituated the hat he'd forgot was on his head, letting out a single self conscious laugh, "Ha! What can I say. You speak like you drink dirt for a living, add W's where they never belonged, and don't use nearly enough consonants. You speak from so low on your register I'm surprised you have any vocal cords left, and haven't just ground them into sand."

Still flushed, Mick eyed him. "And you think it's.. sexy."

 _Yes_ Josef screamed in his head. But he knew he couldn't be so blatant. "I think if you attempted too, and if you weren't so awkward, you could be incredibly sexy. You've have ladies left and right."

Micks eyebrows went down. "Wait, do you just think it meets the standard of sexy, or do _you_ think it's sexy?"

It was Josef's turn to blush. Why was Mick being so specific about this? "That's a different question."

"No, it's not."

Josef got caught in micks probing stare. He blinked and looked down at the bar table, picking up one of the shots. Looking back up and keeping eye contact with Mick the whole time, he slowly downed the alcohol. Mick blinked, wide eyed and a little intimidated. "Oh. Well I guess I gotta think of a dare now."

"Guess you gotta."

"I dare you to...beat me in darts."

Josef scoffed. "You can't dare me to do something impossible!"

"What! It's not impossible! You haven't even seen me play!"

"I don't have to. You're job title kind of says it all, don't you think? I've been shot by you enough times to know you're aim. You never miss."

Micks eyes filled with guilt. Both remembered Josef's body on the ground, choking to death on his own blood. "But I have missed. I've missed you twice."

"Yes Mick, that is an _incredible_ record."

"Hm." Mick grunted, looking unconvinced.

Josef gently tried to steer them back on track. "So I'm sure you are a master at darts."

"Well, I have been drinking..."

"I doubt it makes a difference."

Mick looked sideways. "Well...fine. I'll think of a better dare."

Josef shook his head, twirling Mick's pen in his fingers. "No, you had your chance it's, my turn now."

"What, that's not the rules!"

"It is now! Truth or dare?"

A smile returned to Mick's face."Ugh, dare you little shit."

"I dare you to ask the band to let you sing the next song."

it was enough to completely kick Mick out of his mood. "Ha, what! Hell no, I ain't singing in front of all these people!"

"Well, that's only if they say yes."

"You know they'd say yes! People in this town are too afraid of Mann Co. workers _not_ to say yes! To everything! It's like we're the mob or something."

"That's true. So it's a no?"

Mick grabbed the next shot and spilled half of it on the table. Josef out his hand over the shot and lowered it back to the table. "I'm not going to let you drink that."

Mick blinked, "What?"

"You're going to give yourself a heart attack."

"Am not."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Ugh fine. You really want me to sing, doncha'?"

"That's why I dared you to." Josef smiled at the thought of hearing Mick's voice again, in spite of how unlikely it was. He really was just teasing him.

Mick looked down to where his hand was still wrapped around the shot, Josef's hand on top of it. "Alright, tell you what. I'll do it, but only if you ask me to. Not as a dare, just ask."

Josef froze, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Really?"

Mick, suddenly serious, nodded. "Yeah, really. Just... ask me to."

"Oh." Josef relaxed his hand over the shot glass, the tips of his fingers brushing Mick's hand. "Well, uh, I am asking you, Mr. Mick-"

Sniper snorted and cut him off, "-Ha oh god. Jesus, never say that again please. It's Mundy."

"Mundy?"

"Yeah. Michael Mundy. Micheal Laine Mundy."

Josef's eye's got impossibly wider. "Micheal!?"

Blushing as if he'd misspoke, Mick shrunk into his shoulders a little. "Weeell, it Micheal _technically_ , on paper, but don't go callin' me that. My name's Mick, and that's uh, what I go by. I'm a lot more comfortable with that."

"Huh. Mick Laine Mundy." the Medic smiled. "I like that."

It could have been the bar lighting, but josef was pretty sure Mick's blush deepened. "Thanks."

The Doctor let his hand cover Mick's, the shot glass between them. "Hewit Ludwig."

Mick shook his head. "Excuse me?"

"Josef Hewit Ludwig."

"Oh. It's nice."

"Hm. Well, Mr. Mundy, consider this my formal request for you to please get your skinny arse up to that stage and dazzle the crowd, bitte?"

Mick laughed, loosing up a bit."Ha! Well I donno about the dazzle part, but since you asked so nice l- I guess I could give it a shot while I'm drunk enough." He slid off his stool, hand sliding away from under Medic's, and gave a little bow. "As you wish, Herr Ludwig." 

"Wait." Josef reached up and took Mick's hat off of his own head and held it out toward the sniper. He hated to take it off, but felt like he should."I cannot make you go up there alone."

Mick smile and bent his head so Josef could shove on his stetson. He looked up from under the brim. "Looked good on ya though."

Josef's insides wiggled at was most definitely a wink of Mick's beautiful dark brown eye. Still, he had to hold back a laugh at the word 'donger' peaking out from under the hat. 

Mick grabbed the shot from out under Josef's hand and threw it back, grinning, before turning and walking toward the stage through the crowd. He probably would have had to push through, if they didn't automatically move for him. Perks of being feared, he supposed.

Josef stayed at his spot at the bar, watching from afar as Mick waited for the band finish their current song. When they had, he leaned close to the lean singer and asked a question. From this distance it was impossible to tell exactly what he said. The singers eyes widened and he turned to the rest of his band. They shrugged begrudgingly, obviously not jazzed about the idea but not about to say no. Mick tipped his hat and stepped up on the stage. He looked around at the band members and asked something else, most of them responding with a look of mild surprise, and the horn player looking downright enthusiastic. Mick nodded, and made his way to the front to take hold of the microphone stand. It was ridiculously short for him, so he took the mic out and held it in his hand instead. He didn't say anything, he just waited. The members of the crowd that had been dancing look apprehensive, and several looks were exchanged around the bar.

Josef held his breath, and watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truth or dare. I know its cheesy but i had so much fun writing this chapter lol


	16. Oh So Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: A pub in New Mexico. Song: Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond.
> 
> Has the burn been slow enough for y'all? Are you simmering thoroughly? Have I made you wait long enough?

Soft, upbeat music started to play. Mick stared at the floor and nodded along, barely tapping his foot.

The entire bar was watching him now, waiting for his voice, Josef saw him take a breath, eyes still trained on the floor.

And Mick began to sing.

_"Where it began,  
I can't begin to knowin'.  
But then I know its growing strong._"

Mick voice slid effortlessly out of his throat, hitting even the lowest note flawlessly. If Josef had looked around, he would have seen that not only the the band looked shocked at Snipers voice, but the rest of the bar as well. But Josef didn't look around. He couldn't. He only had eyes for the singer on stage.

_"Was in the spring,  
And spring became the summer.  
Who'd have believed you'd come along."_

Josef caught the glimpse of a smile flicker on Mick's face.

_"Hands...  
Touchin' hands..."_

Mick's head slowly tipped back to look up from under his hat brim.

_"Reaching out..."_

His eyes settled on Josef, who felt his heart stutter to a stop.

_"Touching me...  
Touching you!"_

Mick grinned, and actually started to move with the music, breaking the odd frozen atmosphere of the pub, letting his voice carry. 

_"Sweet Caroline!"_

Josef nearly fell out of his chair when half of the people in the bar responded with a deafening, "dun dun dun!" Apparently this song was popular among Americans, as the drunken dancers lost their apprehension, and where _extremely_ enthusiastic about singing along with the horn player.

_"Good times never seemed so good!"_

Josef felt himself laugh, shaken out of his stupor. He couldn't believe Mick had actually taken him up on this request, let alone had gone up on the stage and was giving it his all. Mick's eyes were fixed on Josef as he sang, and the medic could not have looked away if he wanted to.

Mick sang through the whole song, one that the crowd was extremely responsive to in spite of (or perhaps because of) its repetitive nature. Josef didn't quite understand the point of screaming along to the horn section, so he didn't partake in the enthusiastic "dun dun dun's" of the crowd, but he did cheer the loudest when the song came to a grand finish. 

Whatever had been fueling Mick dissipated the second the music stopped. He his eyes broke away from Josef, snapping the contact and whatever moment it had carried with it, and he ducked his head. He went to step off the stage, but he was stopped by one of the band members. Josef watched as Mick was taken aside, trying to figure out what was being said from this distance.

"Hi sweetheart. Don't think I've seen you 'round here before."

Josef shocked slightly at a voice directly next to him. He turned to see a woman slide boldly into Mick's seat, leaning on the bar and eyeing him with a smile. He had stood up to cheer after Mick's performance, and had ended up between the bar stools, so she was very close. She looked to be around his age, maybe slightly older. Josef blinked at her intrusion, not exactly offended so much as confused why she was talking to him. Some part of him forgot that anyone else existed except the man that had just been singing.

Her eyes swept him up and down before resting on his own, her artfully painted lids low. "You just crossin' through town?"

Josef cleared his throat, unsure how to respond. he could tell she had an accent of some sort of American variety, but he could't place it. He found his voice, glancing back to the stage in an attempt to keep from losing Mick in the crowd. "No, I live in the area, I come to this establishment from time to time."

Her eyes brightened and she leaned farther forward. "Oh, nice accent you got there! I thought you looked foreign -don't see too many fine men around these parts- so where you from?"

"I am German," he said flatly, not wishing to be rude but also wanting her to leave Mick's chair before he got back. 

She either didn't take the hint or ignored it. Her smile charming, she swiveled in her seat to brush her knees against him, and it occurred to him that he was being flirted with. "I thought that might be it. So, what's a man like you doin' all alone on a night like this?"

Josef frowned as he looked away again to try and locate Mick. He hadn't been hit on in a long time, defiantly not by anyone here. Being recognized as an employee at Mann Co. was enough for most women to steer clear, even though they had no idea what his job actually was. This woman said she didn't recognize him, so either she was new to town and hadn't heard any rumors yet, or she was lying and simply brave enough not to care. She seemed bold and came on quite strong, and at the same time her accent was obvious not native to New Mexico, so really either option was viable. In the end he supposed it didn't matter, as he certainly had no interest in taking her home tonight, or whatever it was she obviously had in mind. 

"I am not alone actually, the man who just sang for the crowd is a friend of mine." He nodded to the stage with a tight smile, hoping she would notice his intentional gaze at the empty glass in front of her and realize her seat was already taken. 

Instead, she laughed. "Oh the Aussie, really? Both of you came here alone? How two foreign fella's like you keep to yourselves in this bar is beyond me, the gals here must just have boring taste."

Josef froze up a little, realizing when she said _alone_ she meant _without female companions._ His smile thinned and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was starting to make him uncomfortable, she was nice enough and quite attractive but he'd just never been good at reacting to the attractions of women. It wasn't like he could just tell them he had other preferences. 

His eyes flashed to the side again for Mick, and didn't spot him on or near the stage. _Where was he?_

The woman was still waiting for his response. He grabbed his half-empty drink, tapping the glass with his fingers to give his hands something to do. Instead of answering, he said carefully, "I... assume are new to this town?" 

Her winning smile didn't waver, be he did notice her eyes narrow slightly in concern. "Yeah, hopin' to have a little fun while I'm here."

That actually made Josef chuckle, brow raised as he swept the bar again for his missing companion. This town was not known for being 'fun'. "Ah, I wish you luck with that, Fräulein."

Her laugh was fetching and light, and her hand came up to settle on his bicep. "Oh honey, I already am."

Then, suddenly -finally- Mick was there. He appeared out the crowd, standing right there next to the two bar stools, face a little flushed from either alcohol or the excretion and embarrassment of singing, Medic couldn't tell. 

Josef, relieved to have an excuse to get out of the situation with this persistent woman, opened his mouth to speak to Mick -maybe suggest they play pool or darts or _something_ to gently exclude his admirer. But the bushman sauntered over, glanced at Josef, eyed the girl, and slung an arm over her shoulder. 

After an initial jolt of surprise, Josef felt an pang of jealousy and longing that he had no right to feel. He promptly ignored it, pushing it aside along with a feeling of betrayal which he thought was a little more justified -but then again it wasn't like Mick had come here with him in the first place, so maybe it wasn't. The man didn't owe the medic anything, he could do whatever he wanted. Josef just really didn't want this woman to be what he wanted. 

Mick smiled smoothly at the girl. He didn't sound all that drunk when he spoke, but Josef could tell by his volume and unusually confident tone, and the thickness of his accent that he was still significantly influenced. "'Hey there, sweetheart." Mick nodded sideways at Josef. "This bloke botherin' ya, li'l lady?" 

Josef and the woman spoke at the same time. 

"-Oh, no, we were just talkin'-" 

"-Nein, I was just-" 

The woman giggled, and Josef's mouth formed a thin line, annoyed that he'd been cut off and was apparently expected to explain himself to Mick of all people, who he had _thought_ would get him out of this instead of deeper in. It was really the woman who would not leave him alone, he was fairly certain he'd given a decent amount of hints that he was not interested. He felt offended for a second, what exactly did Mick think of him? 

He opened his mouth to stiffly explain, but noticed something when he met the eyes of his companion. Looking at Sniper, he could feel it. Something was... wrong. Something was off. Mick's body language look right -relaxed and comfortable- and his voice was maybe a little drunk but very companionable and flirtatious, but neither his smile nor his voice matched his eyes. Mick's eyes, still out in the open, were telling an entirely different story than the rest of him appeared to be telling. 

Whatever it was Mick was doing, he was putting on a show. 

The girl smiled at him, charmed, but not enough to abandon her original mission. She obviously didn't mind the extra company of a man with Sniper's looks, but she could tell he was drunk and she clearly still had her sights on the medic. She cut Josef off and leaned into Mick, an action that sent a weird jealous anger wriggling through Josef, which was probably her intention. But it made him want to fling her from Mick's side and take _her_ place instead of the other way around. His hand tightened around his glass. 

The woman giggled again, flapping a dismissive hand "No, no, he wasn't. I'm afraid it's actually the other way 'round. You see, your friend here's just playin' hard to get." She winked at Josef like it was a joke the shared between them. 

Micks eyes slid up to Josef's. His fake smile fell off, replaced by a quiet appreciation and satisfaction, and his voice to the woman went flat. "S'that so?" 

The girl frowned up at him, confused to find him with eyes only for the Medic. His arm fell off her shoulders. 

"Well, if he's causin' you that much trouble to try an' catch, I s'pose I can take him off your hands for ya." 

In one fluid motion Mick left the woman's side, stepped foreword, snagged Josef by the waist, pulled him flush against his body, and kissed him. 

Josef dropped his drink. 

The woman leaned back, all signs of flirtation dropped. "Um-" 

But she had less than no attention on her now. 

Josef felt a warm mouth on his, and hiss wide eyes fluttered closed involuntarily. A surprised noise wavered at the back of his throat. His hips were pressed against snipers and a wide hand was on his back, keeping him close. His mind went absolutely haywire. Sniper was kissing him. _Mick_ was kissing him! Slowly and fully, without rush or hesitancy. Josef couldn't wrap his brain around it but he was shrouded in convincing warmth and smell and _him_ and he found himself kissing back. Of course he was kissing back. It was sweet and gentle and perfect. Every nerve lit up and all he wanted was to be closer. 

But then he tasted alcohol. And everything came crashing down. 

Mick was drunk. Really drunk. Drunk enough to probably not remember this later. This didn’t _mean_ anything, it couldn't possibly mean anything. This didn’t mean what every cell in Josef's body wanted it to. This was Mick kissing the only person in this godforsaken pub that who he knew. Mick was just a friend, if that much even. he was barely and acquaintance. Mick didn't crave this like he did, didn't need this closeness like Josef did. Mick had just found a mouth. 

Except it was _his_ mouth. 

Josef almost felt like crying the kiss felt so good, but he knew this wasn't real, not in the way he wanted it to be. He reasoned with himself that there was no way in the world Mick actually felt anything for him. That didn't stop the doctor from wanting it though. He wished for it so much it hurt. 

His hands found Mick's shoulders and he gripped on, stuck between pulling him closer and pushing him away. Trying with every ounce of his will power not to wrap his arms around the bushman's neck and press up close against him and breathe him in and never let him go. 

As the sober person -or mostly sober- he knew it was his responsibility to pull away. But he couldn't, he didn't want to. He felt despicable and gross, like he was committing a betrayal of trust to this one friend he'd found. There was no way the marksmen would actually _want_ to kiss him or be kissed by him -a man, an _enemy_ \- Mick would probably be disgusted by him later but he knew he wouldn't get this chance again. He would never, ever get this chance again. So he kissed back. 

Mick finally pulled away, but kept his hand on Josef's back and their bodies aliened, their faces close. This time when he smiled, it reached his beautiful, fascinating eyes and they shone. His voice was rough and low when he spoke, so quiet and private between them it almost felt more intimate than the kiss. "Looked like she was botherin' ya, mate. Thought I'd step in." 

"Oh." Josef muttered, stunned and more than a little breathless. 

Micks smiled widened to a breathless grin. "Ha. God, you're cute when you're flustered, you know that?" 

"Oh," Josef breathed again. He looked at Mick smiling at him for a few more seconds, taking in every inch of his face. Committing it to memory. Filing away the feeling of being in his arms. 

He couldn't do this. It was obvious he didn't have the self control after that display. He wanted it far too badly to have it dangled in front of him like that. It was just too much. 

"Mick, I..." 

"Yeah?" 

His voice was nothing but a whisper, but they were close enough that he knew Mick could hear him. "I'm so sorry. I had a wonderful time with you tonight, I hope you know that." 

Mick's brows skewed down in question, but before he could respond, Josef pushed out of his grasp and ran for the door. He forced his way through the bar crowd and threw himself outside, feeling his insides scream. He found his car quickly and yanked the door open, and once he'd thrown himself inside he yelled wordlessly and punched the seat next to him. His fist sank uselessly into the cushion and was the opposite of satisfying, leaving him shaking with nothing to stop the the tide he could feel rising up. He cursed a loud, long string of German and buried his head in his arms on the steering wheel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a smooch!??!
> 
> I think Josef may be slightly over thinking things...


	17. Action and Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: A lovely luxurious Cadillac Coupe De Ville that puts up with more shit than it deserves. Song: Like A Staring Contest by The Future Kings of Nowhere.
> 
> It uh, gets worse before it gets better...

The door was kicked open by a sharp little Italian shoe, which darted back in to its place behind the driver of a shiny black Cadillac Coupe De Ville. The vehicle looked extremely out of place parked temporarily outside the bar, like a standard show poodle sitting just outside to a group of pugs with breathing problems. Mick bent down to see who was behind the wheel even though he damn well knew who's car it was, and felt his heart sink to his knees. 

Spy was glaring straight ahead through the windshield with eyes that would scare off the devil himself.

Mick swallowed and climbed sloppily into the passenger side, closing door as quietly as he could. Spy didn't look at him, in fact he didn't so much as twitch. Mick sat in silence, waiting for the Frenchman to start the car. He didn't. It wasn't until Mick clicked in his seat belt in confusion that Spy yanked the car into gear and peeled out onto the road in utter silence. 

Mick shifted in his seat and coughed, propping himself up against the window. He was drunk. Really drunk, he could tell. But it didn't feel good anymore, in fact now with Spy here it was more like having a primed grenade in your stomach that threatens to get upchuck in the air conditioning if it goes off. His face hurt, but he didn't dare move to poke at it, the air around them practically buzzed with tension that could break at the slightest upset. He couldn't even hear spy breathing, but he could sure feel the anger coming off of him in tangible waves. It was so quiet in the car that Mick actually heard the squeak of leather when Spy's gloved hands tightened on the wheel.

After what felt like twenty minutes, but was probably more like five, Spy finally spoke in a calm and controlled voice that was twice as scary as his 'scary voice.' Mick wished he was only mad enough to use his 'scary voice'. This was worse. "Where are your glasses?"

Mick swallowed again, and couldn't decide if he liked the silence better or not. "Uh, they...they broke." His voice sounded sloppy, and he tried to sober up via force of will, only about half sure it wouldn't work.

Spy scoffed, but it sounded more like he was holding back a nuclear explosion in his lungs. "You got in a fight," He bit off each sentence like a dog snapping its jaws.

Mick briefly considered lying, but figured that was probably more deadly in this moment than his day job was. Besides, he was a bad liar _sober_. "...Yeah."

Spy didn't hesitate as he questioned seriously, "Did you kill anyone?"

"Wha-" Sniper blanched and turned to the man in the drivers seat, "-Course I didn't fucking kill anyone!"

"Did you _injure_ anyone?" Spy's gloves squeaked on the wheel again as he strangled the poor life out of it. 

Mick tried to make a "pfft" sound but it came out more like a gurgle. He wiped the resulting spit off his face with the back of his hand. "Barley touched 'em, e's fine."

At least Spy seemed to believe him, as it once again went silent in the Cadillac. Mick started to drum his fingers on his knees to release his nervous energy, staring out the window in the opposite direction of Spy. After a few minutes he heard his teammate take a deep breath before gritting out, "Do you need to go back for them?"

Mick didn't need to ask to know he was asking about the aviators. He shook his head and kept his eyes out the window. "In the system, I'll get 'em back Monday."

Spy went silent again. Mick tucked his knees together, trapping his fingers between them to keep them from tapping. He knew this conversation was far from over, and waiting for it was agonizing. When he'd called Pauling from a payphone saying he was drunk off his ass and needed a ride, he'd thought she'd send an agent or something -there was no way in hell he thought she would send _Spy_. He felt like a kid getting in trouble at school and having their parents called. Except that parent had a knife and two years of pent up rage aimed towards him. He knew it was stupid for Spy to act like he had any say over what he, a grown ass adult, did with his time. But he also he didn't exactly have any platform to stand on, Mick knew why he didn't have Spy's trust.

The truth was, most of tonight was a blur for him. He remembered getting there with Soldier and Demo, and Demo convincing him to try something alcoholic. He remembered them leaving before the band started, and him telling them he'd figure out a ride. Once the band started the rest began to blur together in his head, he felt like he'd talked a lot which was strange, he usually wasn't the type to interact with strangers. He knew he'd had shots at some point caused he'd payed for them, and a lot of vodka after something had seriously ruined his mood. He didn't know what, maybe the band had stopped playing or something. Then some massive bloke had come up and started calling him all sorts of shit, half of which Mick didn't even understand but was pretty sure were just various derogatory words for the same thing. He'd been called gay enough in his life to know it when he heard it, no matter how odd the slurs were or how thick the southern accent was. When the guy punched him straight in the face and broke his glasses, Sniper had twisted his arm behind his back and slammed his face into the bar six or seven times, which ended things pretty quickly. No one else looked ready to call him any names, but he was self aware enough to know it was time to leave. The pay phone was right outside the bar, and Pauling was known for answering at any time of the night. 

"How much did you have?"

Spy's words brought him slamming back to the present, and he had to resist the urge to open the car door and run off into the desert rather than answer that. The image of a fuming Spy stalking after him in dark kept him to fleeing, though. he shrugged and tried to sound unconcerned. "A bit. Too much."

" _How_ too much."

__"I dunno some weird fruity drink, shots, then a... lot of vodka. I uh... don't really remember."_ _

Spy finally turned his head toward him. That glare didn't look any better focused on him than it had on the road. "Sniper, what the hell were you _thinking!?_ " 

__"Whatcha' mean 'what was I thinkin'', it's a Friday night, I had drinks, nothin' happened!" He yapped back._ _

__"You got in a fight!"_ _

__Sniper pried his hands from between his knees and threw them up in the air, "Yeah, and nothin' happened!"_ _

Spy actually growled when he spoke, the threat very clear in his voice, "Sniper, tell me what is going on." 

__"Oh good Christ Spy, nothin' is goin' on!"_ _

Spy scoffed harshly and shook his head, face twisting into some sort of angry disappointment. "Oh don't _lie_ to me, you will only make a fool of yourself." 

__"Nothin' is goin' on!" Mick insisted._ _

__Spy's side-eye could've killed a seasoned warrior, his voice sarcastically feigning surprise. "Wow! Okay, well you must think I'm completely stupid!"_ _

__The sniper groaned and sunk further into his seat. He knew exactly where this was going, and _the incident_ was not something he wanted to talk about right now. Or ever. They'd managed to avoid it for two years, now was not the time. He was too drunk. And too conscious. "Nothing's going on!"_ _

__"This is idiotic."_ _

__Mick's patience thinned and he snapped before he could think better of it. "Spy, I just had one too many, seriously this is a bit of a overreaction."_ _

__Spy actually laughed. It wasn't humorous, more dangerous. "Overreaction?!"_ _

__"Yes!"_ _

__"Me! Overreaction-?!" The Cadillac slammed to a stop, skidding from 60 to 0 as fast as vehiclely possible to pull over to the side of the road. Spy, completely unfazed, whipped in his seat to screech at his passenger. "- _This_ is the overreaction!!?"_ _

Sniper clutched at the dash, willing his heart not to stop after a move like that. "Bloody fuckin' Christ Spy! That was over two bloody years ago! Yes, what I- it _was_ an overreaction, but the fuck am I supposed to do to make up for it now?!?" 

__"Nothing! You can't! You can't _make up_ for it Sniper, it's not like you owe me money!"_ _

__Mick groaned, letting his head drop back on the head-rest, feeling like he was about to lose it. His temples were starting to throb. He grit through his teeth to the man beside him, "Spy, you have to be reasonable, I dunno what you want from me here!"_ _

__"Reasonable?!?"_ _

Mick let his hands slam down on the dashboard as he finally raised his voice, "Yes Spy! We _both_ have to be reasonable or we are never gonna fucking figure this out!" 

__Spy went quiet again. His movements were jerky ans stiff as he pulled back onto the road, eyes glued forward and face blank. It was about five minutes of unbearable silence before Mick had to break it._ _

__"Spy-"_ _

__"You're spending the night in the infirmary." Spy's voice was flat._ _

__Dread found a place among the alcohol in Mick's stomach. "Don't get Doc involved in this-"_ _

__"It is out of your hands. There is no question."_ _

__Mick clenched his jaw and muttered, "You can't tell me what to do, mate." It was a weak move, they both knew it._ _

__"Medic can," Spy spat back at him_ _

__"Only-"_ _

__Spy didn't let him even try to come up with a defense. "Under these circumstance he most definitely can and you know he _will_. As soon as I tell him you got wasted you won't be leaving his sight."_ _

__"I'm not your fucking... responsibility."_ _

__"Then you shouldn't have acted like it."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. These bois have some issues. 
> 
> Pls don't drive like Spy.
> 
> Don't worry, Josef will be back next chapter! Can't say how great he's doin tho 😬


	18. What You Didn't do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: The BLU Base. Song: The Loneliness and the Scream by Frightened Rabbit.
> 
> In which Josef somehow manages to have a worse night than Mick did.

The single dusty light outside the BLU base flickered weakly, as if yelling at anyone who had the audacity to be outside at this time of night to go the hell to bed.

It had been nearly an hour, and Josef was still in his car. 

He’d driven back from the bar, blasting stupid country music from his radio to drown in and pretending not to notice the wet trails down his cheeks. Telling himself his vision was blurry because of alcohol consumption. He’d muttered through the entire periodic table in order to give his mind something to do other than mope, but it hadn’t worked. He’d pulled up to the base exactly fifty-three minutes ago and hadn't moved since. At this point he was contemplating just sleeping in his car. 

He couldn’t _believe_ he’d just done that. On any level. Not a professional level, where he’d interacted with an enemy and exchanged personal information like his full name. Not on a personal level, where he’d ruined the only thing even close friendship he had or was likely to get in the foreseeable future. Not even on a moral level, where not only had he’d used Mick’s drunken state to kiss him longer but had then run away AND left him with the tab.

Josef curled up into a tighter ball, face pressed against his steering wheel, wishing he could disappear. The last thing he wanted to do was drag his sorry ass inside, he’d rather drive off a cliff then go inside, but he knew it would be worse if he waited until morning. They were going to be suspicious either way, might as well not make his teammates think he’d been out the entire night. All he could do was pray they were all asleep already. 

He heaved up and out of his car, trying to fix himself up as best he could in what dim reflection he could make out in the window. He probably looked worse than shit, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He dragged himself to the door of the base, typing in the code in a keypad and slipping inside. It was warm, but the atmosphere made him so uncomfortable it was hard to take comfort in that. The Medic walked quietly down the hallway toward his lab, trying not to look like he was sneaking but resisting the urge to run. He really didn’t think he could handle an altercation right now. 

Then a fist drove directly into the side of his face. 

It came seemingly out of nowhere when he turned a corner, and Josef fell sideways with the force of it. His head bounced off the wall, rocking him more than he already was. Every emotion that had been coursing through him evaporate in the heat of fear, panic replacing all of it in an instant as he snapped alert. He shoved away from the wall -terrified of getting trapped against it, of not being able to _move_.

But he wasn't given much of a choice in the matter.

The hand came back and grabbed his neck as he tried to get away, fingers large enough to almost wrap all the way around it, and slammed him back against the wall as a huge body crowded him. Josef shook with adrenaline and the urge to fight, but he knew better than to squirm as he met the gaze of his attacker.

Heavy’s eyes were brimming with hate, and his voice was low ans dangerous. “Where were you.”

The Medic couldn’t stop his hands from coming up to hold on to Heavy's wrist, trying to take some of his body weight into his arms instead of his neck.

“I was... out ...in town!” He gasped out, trying to keep his mind focused and from dissolving into mindless panic. But he didn't know what was happening, this was insane. Sure, his teammates hardly treated him well, but they didn’t just _attack_ him unprompted like this. He was well acquainted with Heavy's anger, but he usually got some kind of warning before it came to blows. This was different, and this was _dangerous_.

Heavy snarled and threw Josef to the floor, and the doctor felt pain spike through his wrists and knees. He ignored it and kept his head down, not daring to look up. 

“I smell drink on you." Heavy spat, "That is where you were? Instead of doing your job.?”

Josef stared at the floor, wide eyed, trying to figure out what the hell he’d done wrong. It was a Saturday, they didn’t battle this day or the next, so it was beyond him what Heavy had expected him to do with his time. He could see being degraded for going to the pub instead of being productive, but not attacked. Not like this.

“You found the bastard, eh?“

Josef’s blood chilled. That was Demo’s voice, clear as day, except Demo was _never_ coherent at this time of night. He was always either too drunk to understand or straight up unconscious, but at the moment he practically sounded sober. That was the biggest red flag of the night. This was more than whatever fucked up vendetta Heavy had against him, something had actually happened. 

And as usual, the blame seemed to be falling to him. 

He looked up at the men towering about him, hating how small he felt. Hating how much he wanted to run. Hating how much more scared of his own team he was then the team that actually killed him. At least on the field he could fight back. And at least on field respawn was on. 

At least the other team was payed to hate him.

Josef opened his mouth to try and find something to say for himself, but a voice cut him off.

“Oh wow, he finally decided to show up, huh?” Scout came trotting around the corner, arms crossed over his chest, trying to look as intimidating as his small stature would allow. For some reason, he was favoring his right leg.

“What happened here?” Josef whispered, not wanting to come off as antagonistic. He felt sick at the helpless sound of his own voice.

“Scout, why not tell Proto Doktor here what happened?” Heavy growled, his eyes not leaving the figure on the ground in front of him.

Scouts eyes shifted back and forth between Heavy's and the man on the ground. He nodded, chewing his lip. “Yeah, sure, how about ‘fell three stories and nearly fuckin' bit the dust,’ that about sum it up?”

Josef stiffened and his mind raced, trying to connect the dots. “What?!” 

Scout frowned down at him. The runner was annoying and spiteful yes, but he was also young. Really young. For as much as he tried to impress his teammates and act as hardened as them, he lacked the real mean streak that ran through the others. Sure he was rude and insulting, but his heart just wasn’t in it. He was so unsure. He seemed more lost than anything, and Medic usually just felt bad for him. He glared down at Josef, but he seemed shifty and uncomfortable next to Heavy. Still, it was obvious whose side he was on. “Yeah _Doc,_ railing on the roof gave out. Fell all the way to the ground floor. Nearly killed my ass, and guess who wasn’t here?”

Heavy stepped closer, forcing Josef to scramble back on the floor until his back hit the wall. He sat against it, trying to make himself a smaller target.

“Scout broke legs and was stabbed through chest with metal railing. Engineer only managed to put up dispenser in time. And where were you? Gone! You think this is joke? Scout almost _died_ because of you!”

Josef failed to see how exactly this was his fault, but he turned his panicked gaze to Scout almost pleadingly. “I am sorry I was not here to help you Scout, I did not know this would happen!”

Demo laughed harshly and shook his head. “Doesn’t change the fact we had to pry a metal pole outta the lad while he waited for Engie throw together a full dispenser, _mate_. Where was your bloody help then, wet nurse?”

Heavy cut in again, bending down to get closer to eye level with the medic. “Did you enjoy little outing, Doktor?”

Josef stared at him in confusion at the subject change. “W-what?”

“Because I don’t think Scout enjoyed having legs broken, yes Scout?”

Scout looked as unsure about where this was going as Medic did. “Uh...right, yeah. it sucked.”

Heavy nodded calmly, then look Medic dead in the eyes. “Let is see how much you like it, Doktor.”

Before Josef could react, Heavy had grabbed him by the ankle, and lifted his leg slightly off the ground as he stood to his full height.

Scout had time to flinch back and say, “Heavy wait, holy shit!” and Medic had time to inhale in horror before Heavy stomped his entire weight down onto Medic's knee and snapped his leg backwards at the joint. 

Everyone heard the bones snap and ligaments tear, and Josef _screamed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was gonna get worse before it gets better.


	19. Watch You Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Badlands. Song: Devil Like Me by Rainbow Kitten Surprise
> 
> Well wasn't that last chapter just the bees knees...

Mick hadn’t seen the BLU medic in days.

Well, that was an exaggeration. He’d _seen_ him, sure, from all the way across the field through the tiny circle of his scope. But he hadn't seen him up close, they hadn’t spoken. Josef hadn’t even so much as glanced towards his sniping spot, much less found the time to trot up the stairs and lean smirking against the wall behind him while Mick picked off his teammates. He'd had been racking his brain all week about what he could possibly have done to offend the man, (besides be his enemy, but what else was new) but as far as he could tell nothing had changed. He remember talking to him at the end of the workday on Friday during the humiliation round like usual, and by the time Monday rolled around Josef was avoiding him like the plague. 

The weekend hadn’t exactly been what Mick would call great, so he’d almost been thankful that first day when he had some space to just snipe and mutter bitterly under his breath without having to explain his mood to anyone. It wasn't like his _entire_ team didn't know by now. Spy had made sure of that, sticking true to his word and dragging Sniper to the infirmary on Saturday. He hadn't been quiet about it. He'd gone off Mick and the RED medic until the doctor had told him sharply to go on a walk.

To his surprise, RED team's Medic hadn't made Mick stay overnight. He’d agreed that Spy might have reacted a tad too strongly, and Mick was free to do as he wished with his Saturday nights. But he’d looked so sad and worried when he'd handed Mick hangover meds and strictly instructed him to drink water, Sniper knew that this event wasn't going over anyone's head. He'd had patched up Mick's face and gently asked if he was feeling okay, looking like no matter what answer the sniper gave it wouldn't be fully trusted. Mick had gruffly talked bullshit about his physical state, even though he knew that wasn’t what Medic had been asking about. Then he’d gone to bed and spent Sunday feeling awful in his trailer.

But that was _days_ ago. Sure he'd appreciated the space on Monday, but it was Thursday already and he was starting feel the lack of... whatever it was he had with Josef. He hadn't realized before just how accustomed to their friendship he'd become, but it had somehow wormed it's way into his natural routine. It was so different from what he had with the rest of his teammate, for the first time in what felt like years, he was actually finding moments of... _fun_. It’s sounded childish and stupid, but he hadn’t realized how much he missed just enjoying himself in the company of other people. Well, one person in particular now. Sure he appreciated his team but, no matter how good their intentions may be, they still walked on eggshells around him.

He peered down at the BLU team as he waited for his counterpart marksmen to respawn after an easy headshot. He found Josef almost immediately, not even bothering to pretend that wasn’t exactly who he was looking for. He'd given up lying to himself like that back on Tuesday.

He’d been tracking Josef for the last work week, or at least ever since he noticed the doctor was actively avoiding him. After a lot of spying (he shivered at the term) it was clear that something was off about the BLU. He seemed fidgety and jumpy, even around his own teammates. The other BLU's didn't seem too comfortable around him either, though that wasn't too much of a surprise- it wasn't like they were much of a chummy group to begin with. But something was just so tense about it. Mick noticed that even his own RED Spy couldn’t get anywhere near Josef without getting riddled with needles. It didn’t exactly make Mick feel real jazzed about pushing his luck and reaching out to Josef with questions about his sudden lack of contact.

But when it came down to it, the choice really wasn’t up to him.

Josef ran for the nearest building, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket to unusual levels and cursing himself for it. He was never like this, not in battle. He was trained for god's sake, he'd been doing this for years. He could usually keep his head, focus on the here and now, on the fighting. That was easy. He wasn’t afraid of the other team, and he wasn't afraid to die.

But now he _was_ afraid. It just wasn’t of the other team.

His knee still ached with whisper of a phantom pain. He knew it was impossible, there was nothing physically wrong with the limb but it was a trauma he could not get out of his head. He didn't understand why it haunted him so much, he'd been in worse situations before. He died nearly every day. Except It wasn’t like the other deaths he’d suffered on field, full of adrenaline and fight. There was an unspoken contract out on the map, that you are _allowed_ to fight back. Even if you can't, even if your neck has been broken and you can't move a bone in your body, no one _else_ is stopping you. Respawn will have you back in no time, and you are free to go get your revenge at your own risk. No one will blame you.

But it wasn't like that in his base. His home wasn't a battle field, he wasn't supposed to need to fight. He hadn’t been armed, he hadn’t been _ready_. He’d been broken and left on the floor to drag himself all the way down the hall to his lab, nearly passing out several times of the way there. He barely managed to claw his way to the counter that held his medigun -a heaving, sweating, whimpering mess by that point- pull it to the floor and focus it on himself to snap his bones and tendons back together. The worst part was that it had all been witnessed. His teammates had been there, the three of them had just... _watched_ him crawl away. He’d heard Scout muttering curses to himself, and was pretty sure the kid had left at some point saying he was gonna be sick. It had been hard to focus through the pain, though. But Demo and Heavy he could _sense_. They had stayed. He could feel their enjoyment of every second of his pain.

He didn't leave his room that Sunday, he hadn’t dared to. Not even to get food. He’d tried to get some paperwork done to distract himself, but he couldn’t concentrate very well and his hands were too shaky.

Monday came around slowly, both a dread and relief, and he had to leave his lab. To his surprise, no one said a word to him. It was like any other day in the base, all the regulars were in the kitchen and none felt the need to chat. But he was on edge the entire morning.

Josef had waited in the locker rooms for the teleporters to come on. He waited, fully charged for his team to show and for the match to start. It felt like something drastic should happen when Heavy teleported to the spawn on-field. Like everything would suddenly change when he showed up. When they finally made eye contact for the first time since they both felt his bones break under Heavy's foot.

But nothing happened. Nothing but the wave of nausea in Josef’s stomach, and a twinge in his knee

The matches that Monday were fairly standard. BLU lost a few badly, nearly won one or two, then were drained of any and all drive to win and lost the rest. Josef did his best, healing who he could reach in spite of bad tactics and a general lack of anyone bothering to protect him, then sprinting back from spawn and healing again.

By the time they were on their fifth match and his teammates had given up, Medic didn’t want to try anymore either. He felt physically sick being anywhere close to Heavy, but didn’t dare leave his side for too long. The near-giant usually ignored him during battle, seeming both to despise his help when he was around and resent him for not giving it when he wasn't. Josef had figured out long ago that their was no right answer when it came to appeasing Heavy, but since Saturday he couldn't help but feel the rules of at least staying off his bad side had changed without his knowledge. He felt desperate to know what the rules were again, how to insure a peaceful evening of indifference when he got back to the base.

Still, when he saw Sniper’s red sight on Heavy's forehead, he didn’t warn him to duck. It was a small, pathetic victory.

He wanted to go to Mick. Dear _god_ he wanted to go to the stupid tower and sprint up the stairs to where he knew that Sniper was hiding and beg the man to forgive him and forget everything about that night and just be his friend again. Hell, maybe Mick didn’t even remember anything, but it felt like too much to wish for.

Josef pictured Saturday night in his head, before it had been clouded by pain. It felt like so long ago, but he knew he couldn’t face Sniper, not now. He’d given up the one friend he’d had, and now he had no one left to go to. It almost made him laugh that his one option had been on the enemy team in the first place.

About mid-way through Monday when he trained his medigun on Heavy, the man’s mean eyes swiveled to his and Heavy didn’t have to say a word. Medic knew his help was considered useless at that point. It usually happened toward the end of a day of bad losses, when Heavy made it clear he just couldn't put up with Josef's presence anymore. That he would rather die than be in his vicinity. They were only six matches in on the first battle of the week, and Josef could already feel the blame for lost games they hadn’t even fought yet resting on his shoulders.

He'd focused on Soldier for a while instead, healing him up for jumps and trying to catch up. The man didn't say a word, simply continuing his strategy of "run in to the middle of the biggest looking fight and shoot rockets until death." After dying about seven times in a row following him in, Josef gave up on that. He didn't want anything to do with Demo, and Scout was endlessly uncomfortable around him. Medic could practically feel the guilt pouring off the kid in waves, but he didn’t really care. He hadn’t blamed Scout in the first place, he just wished the runner would act like everything was normal so he could have someone to heal. It was clear the kid wanted nothing to do with him, so that was another teammate that didn’t want his help.

So, he started healing Pyro. It was his safest bet, though he knew they always got upset when he was around. If he healed no one he’d be blamed for it, but it wasn’t like anyone else was letting him do is job. At least Pyro seemed well intentioned, and that was miles away from unadulterated loathing.

Things had technically gone back to normal if he thought about it, but they didn’t _feel_ normal. They fought, they lost, they went back to base and everyone ignored him. That's generally how it had been before Mick had been part of his equation, with some tension thrown in and a few injuries on his part but nothing Josef didn't feel like he could handle. But now there was static in the air, it felt thick and drowning. Heavy hadn’t spoken to him. Every fragile tendon in his leg reminded him that it wasn’t normal, _this_ wasn’t normal. Teammates didn’t treat each other like this. Right?

But he couldn’t help but start to feel like he deserved it.

What did he know? He’d never been on a real team before, maybe all the doctors got treated like shit, though he knew for a fact that the RED medic didn't. But maybe he was just lucky, who was Josef to question it?

Maybe he should never have gotten promoted to a real team in the first place.

Regardless, he was on a real team, and he was a real medic, and he wasn't giving it up. It was Thursday now and he was alone and running for the nearest building, syringe gun gripped tightly in his hands, and he was going to shoot whoever came at him beyond that door. BLU Pyro had died to a rocket before they could reach the point, and there was no one around to help him. Not that they would have if they were around, but at least he wouldn’t be a lone target.

He made it inside and headed for the stairs, knowing there was a med pack at the top. He could tell he was bleeding, stay shrapnel from the rocket had caught him too, but adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay for now. The stray steams from his medigun helped, but a pack would speed up the process. He skidded up the stairs, turned the corner and-

And ran head long into the RED sniper.

Mick stumbled back as the very doctor that had just been on his mind came careening around the corner and headlong into his chest. Josef bounced off him and fell back, nearly losing his footing, scrambling back to put space between them and right himself, shoving his glasses back into place.

Mick reached a hand out, aiming to steady him, and couldn't help but notice that the Medic had put himself just out of arms reach. “Woah, easy there mate, you alright?”

Josef stared at him with wide, owl-like eyes for a moment of stillness. Then in a single smooth movement Mick had a fully loaded syringe gun aimed directly at his chest.

Sniper's reaction was a soft intake of breath, body tensing for impact, his throat dry as he swallowed and stilled his movements. He couldn’t help the wave of betrayal and something similar to sadness that washed over him. It wasn’t like Josef owed him anything- hell, this was probably for the best with the worryingly soft _feelings_ he was starting to catch for the man. Still, the fact that Josef had leveled the gun at him hurt far worse than any damage the gun itself could inflict. He pried his eyes off the weapon and looked up into the bright blue eyes its owner. They were so different from the last time he remembered making eye contact. They looked dimmer. Scared.

He stood completely still before Josef, not an ounce of threat held in his body. Mick could easily have gone for his kukri, and he probably would have had a decent chance of beating Josef too; the doctor was already injured. Somehow, the thought of drawing his knife didn't cross his mind as an option in that moment.

Mick just stared, head tilting in the smallest of questions, and slowly raised his hands in surrender.

Josef’s hands started to shake, and his face lost it’s blank look of fear. It was instead taken over by several emotions of varying intensity -sadness, anger, doubt- marring his features. He took a deep breath through his teeth and gripped the gun, rearranging his fingers around the base and twitching his index over the trigger. As he stared Mick down and stilled his hands, the sniper found that had never felt more ready to be shot.

Something in Josef broke, he closed his eyes to mutter, “Es tut mir Leid-" before he whirled and sprinted down the stairs.

Sniper blinked in surprise, part of him still waiting to die before he shook himself into action. “Jo, wait!”

Mick dropped his hands and ran to the top of the stairs, looking down and managing to glimpse the back of Josef’s coat flutter as he ran out the exit of the bottom floor and onto the field. Mick pushed away from the staircase and skidded to the window he’d been sniping from this match, finding Josef through his scope and tracking the doctor as he ran from this building towards the point. Josef didn’t even try to be careful and was spotted almost immediately, almost like it was his intention. Mick cursed as the RED Pyro ran to intersect his path, herding Josef against a wall to run him into a corner until he had nowhere left to go. 

Josef pressed himself against the wall, the approaching flamethrower running him down front of him. Through his scope, Mick could see the BLU's face turn up towards his window. Looking directly at Mick. Asking for a swift end. 

The red dot of his sight was already on Josef’s forehead. He wouldn't even have to aim, it would be as simple as moving his finger. Mick had no idea what was going on with Josef, or if this action would be seen as a helpful one or not. He didn't know what Josef wanted from him anymore, he didn't know if he ever had. He didn't know who's side he was talking when he fired.

Mick just didn't want to watch him burn.

He felt ready to vomit as he pulled the trigger.

His gun clicked. His eyes widened.

_Fuck._

It was empty. Of course it was empty, he'd never reloaded it. The whole _reason_ he’d run into Josef in the first place was because he'd left his nest to go replace his ammo. He cursed himself every way he knew how.

Now Sniper could only watch from far away in his tower, scope stuck on Josef's contorted face as he burned. Below, the doctor stared up at Micks silhouette in the window until he had no eyes to stare with, and fell in a heap at Pyro's feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Josef is not having a great week.


	20. This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Badlands. Song: Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys 
> 
> In which Mick curses. A lot.

Mick watched in horror as Medic's body crumpled in a smoking heap, Pyro raising their flamethrower above their head in victory. Even once Pyro left for the point and Josef's body degenerated to respawn, Sniper's scope stayed on the spot. He couldn't erase the last look Josef had given him as he died from his mind's eye.

Like hell if he was leaving it like that.

He snapped out of it and whirled around, ready to sprint towards the stairs and out to the field. To his complete surprise, his gun was brought to an abrupt stop halfway through his turn as it collided with what very much appeared to be air behind him but was in fact solid and human-shaped. In a jarring revelation of this, he slammed his rifle across the face of the invisible person sneaking up behind him.

BLU Spy staggered back to his knees from the hit, cloaking devise stuttering off, and Sniper flailed and yelped in shock, bringing the barrel of his gun down on the BLU's head again on instinct.

Mick fumbled to throw his gun over his shoulder and grab his kukri, sure his slow reaction time would be the death of him. But the man in front of him was on all fours, blood pooling between his hands as it dripped from his face. From the looks of it, he'd hit Spy so hard the man couldn't even get to his feet yet, and didn't look too in danger of doing so anytime soon.

"Wha- how did you see me?" the Spy spat thickly through his blood.

Mick's shrug went unseen above him, "I didn't." Without another word, Mick drove his knife through the Spy's back, ending it quickly. He braced his foot against the BLU's shoulder and yanked the kukri out, letting the body fall, and giving his weapon a hard shake to get the blood off before continued down the stairs.

He didn't know how the hell he was going to go about actually finding Josef, let alone get him somewhere private so they could talk. But he had to try, he couldn't let the medic think he'd let him suffer out of spite or something. He made his way through the buildings surrounding the point on his side of the field, peaking out windows to try and spot the BLU doctor. He ran into the room housing the RED sentry and crouched next to the dispenser, reloading his gun while he had the chance.

A gloved hand grabbed his collar and threw him back against the wall, and Mick squawked as he thunked against the wooden planks and a large wrench held by a small but angry man was poised ready to strike in front of his face. He really needed to get his head together -how many people were gonna get the jump on him? Now his own teammates were scaring him shitless.

The threatening look fell off of Engie's face as the sniper he had against the wall didn't fade into a BLU spy as he'd expected. "Slim?"

Mick leaned away from the wrench in his face. "Christ, Trucky! Didn't realize you were savin' your ammo for somethin' special or I wouldn'tna gone for it!"

The engineer released him, stepping back to give him some space as Mick straightened himself out. "Well _pardon me_ for thinkin' you were that damn Spy! He's around more than you are, what are you even doin' down here Slim?"

Mick just waved him off and crept to the door, peaking out at the long stretch of semi-open field between him and the next building. He could feel Engie's stare through the back of his head.

Checking all the BLU sniper's usual windows and making sure he wasn't about to lose any brain matter for this, Sniper took off towards the building. He could just make out Engie's hiss of "What in god's name are you _doin'_ , son?" as he ran. He ignored it, not sure if he knew the answer.

He made it to the building and darted inside, pressing himself into a corner and listening hard to see if he was being followed. Most of the fighting should still be gathered around the center point unless there had been a major turn in tides, and he would be able to avoid it if he was careful. Still, he kept his knife out and ready.

"Snipes?"

"Fuck!" Sniper swung behind him before he registered the voice and narrowly avoided hacking RED Scout's face in half, changing direction halfway through his knee-jerk reaction of a swing and digging his Kukri into the wall next to the boy's head. He growled and tugged it furiously out of the wood. "Dammit, you bloody fuckwit! You tryin' to get me to kill ya? Christ! Sneakin' up on me like that..."

Scout stared, mouth dangling open at him from where he'd leapt out of the way. "Jesus Snipes! You're the crazy one, the fuck are you doin' over here?"

Mick rolled his eyes behind his glasses and seethed with frustration. He'd known it was going to be hard to get closer to the main section of the field without being spotted, but he really hadn't thought it would be his team that would be the problem. "I just... ended up down here, alright?"

The runner shook his head as if in disbelief at his stupidity, "Whatever, just come with me before you get blown up or something. Heavy an' Doc went on a fuckin' rampage, they just broke through to the final point, an' I saw Demo and Solly heading over there now -we could win this fast." 

Scout waved him forward and continued further into the building, peering around corners with his shotgun ready. Not seeing any other way to go, Sniper followed behind the RED begrudgingly. He raised an eyebrow at Scout's exposed back to him, think of Engie's reaction earlier.

"How you so sure I'm not the Spook, kid?"

Scout snorted and didn't bother to look back when he spoke. "Cause the BLU Spy isn't stupid enough to just stand there disguised as our Sniper looking confused with his back to the doorway."

Mick frowned. "Oi!"

"You asked."

Just as they approached the middle of the building, a shadow fell across the hallway in front of them. Sniper cursed and Scout leveled his gun on the entrance as the BLU Pyro ran in.

Mick’s eyes widened as behind them, medigun gushing fully charged and ready, Josef ran in and stopped dead when he spotted Sniper.

"Shit shit shit!" Scout yelled, dashing to the side in an attempt to avoid Pyros sweep of flame, firing back. The shotgun blast caught the BLU in the side, but they powered forward and slammed their gun into Scout, knocking him to the floor. They aimed their weapon on his prone figure.

Mick yelled out as the Pyro put their flamethrower full blast on his teammate, and Scout writhed. He ran forward and kicked out at the gun, jerking it in the Pyro's gasp and aiming it away from Scout while slashing at the BLU across the chest with his knife at the same time. They stumbled back, and Mick heard the very distinct sound of a medigun turning off. Without taking a moment to wonder what it meant, he drove his knife all the way through the Pyro's chest. They fell back heavily, hit the floor, and didn't get up.

"Scout!?" Mick called as he whipped around, looking for the runner. There was a distinct, unsettling lack of screaming.

Scout was on the ground, and it was clear he was already gone. The syringes in his chest had made sure of that, ending his suffering quickly. Standing above him was the BLU medic, syringe gun once again pointed at Mick.

This time, Sniper didn't raise his hands. He tried to catch his breath from the skirmish, and tightened his grip on his knife while watching Josef carefully. "You... you didn't use your charge."

He didn't word it as a question. It was a fact, Pyro and Medic should have won that fight. The doctor had instead not only avoided using the charge, but gone as far as to stop healing Pyro to give Mick a chance to kill them. He watched as Josef's throat bobbed with a dry swallow in response.

Mick nodded to the gun in his gloved hand. "You gonna shoot me this time?"

The sniper could see the tendons in Josef's jaw clench, blue eyes searching their own reflection in his glasses for a few taught seconds. Then the announcer’s blaring voice came over the speaker, proclaiming BLU's loss, and the gun was jerked away to respawn and out of Medic's grasp. Josef eyed his empty hand, then dropped his arm and let his shoulders droop. "No."

Mick took a deep breath and blew it out, letting the fight drain out of his body. He flicked blood off his knife and sheathed it. After a few unbearable seconds, he took a tiny step forward. "Listen, Josef-"

"Herr Sniper, I-"

They both stopped and motioned for the other to go first. Mick made a small sound of frustration and took another step towards him, then looked at the floor and rubbed at the back of his head under his hat. "Mate, I'm sorry I didn't shoot ya back there." He cringed at his own wording. "Though, sounds a bit odd when you say it like that I s'pose, what I mean is- see, I ran outta ammo, just when you came up the stairs, an-"

"Sniper," Josef said softly, cutting him off again. Mick looked up, and was surprised by the smallest of smiles on the BLU's face.

"Uh, yeah?"

"It's alright. Do not worry yourself, I am not your responsibility on field. And, besides, I assumed something of the sort had happened. You were headed for the ammo stock after all, why else would you have left your window?"

Mick blinked, floored by how easily that had gone. He hadn't even had to explain anything, Josef had just accepted it. "O- Oh. Yeah. That's... good then."

Josef nodded patiently at him. "Ja."

Mick gnawed the inside on his cheek, wondering why he still felt wrecked by nerves. He'd gotten what he set out to do over with, and Josef genuinely didn't seem upset about it. But something felt so off between them, and after the past few days without seeing him he felt like he didn't know how to act anymore. Also, something about the BLU, the soft way he was smiling with that sadness in his eyes, made him feel like it was the last time they were ever going to talk like this. He really didn't want that to be true. Stoning himself, he decided that being blunt was probably the best option. It was all he could think to do.

"Josef, what... happened?"

The doctor sighed visibly, like that was precisely what he'd hoped Mick wouldn't say. He ran a hand up through his hair, and Mick could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he considered how to answer that. Eventually Josef looked up at him and settled on saying, "I don't know. I'm... sorry."

Mick's eyebrows shot up, surprised. "Wait, why are you sorry? No, you- you don't have to be sorry mate, it's just... I just wish I knew why." Mick wanted to ask if it was him, if he'd done something wrong, but he also didn't want to make Josef feel like he had no choice. He didn't have to explain himself, as much as Mick would like him to.

"I... needed some time to think."

Mick waited for further explanation before gently prompting the medic when he didn't receive any. "Okay?"

The sadness threatened to take over Josef's eyes and spill down his cheeks, and Mick hated the fact that he couldn't step over and wipe it away if it did. "I can't do this anymore."

Mick swallowed back the hollowness in his stomach and asked a question he already knew the answer to. "Do what anymore?"

Josef tore his eyes away and focused them on the wall with an aimless glare, clearly upset that Mick was making him spell it out. Making him say it out loud. But the doctor didn't understand how much Sniper needed this, he needed to be told that everything was going back to the way it was or he would always host that little bit of hope that had always made him so stubborn. "This! This right here!" Josef gestured sharply between them. "I do not know what it is but I can't do it."

Mick nodded stiffly, trying to keep any emotion off his face. "Alright, that's fair. Can you tell me why?" Why did his voice sound so damn shaky? He was a fucking adult for god's sake.

Medic shook his head at him. His expression was a mix of disappointment, annoyance, and pity- Mick couldn't tell which was most prominent but he wasn't liking his choices.

"You _really_ don't remember, do you? Saturday night. At the bar."

Micks eyes went huge and his depressive train of thought came to a screeching halt. On the long list of possibilities that had been running through his head of what Josef might say, _that_ had not been one of them. How the _hell_ did Josef know about that night? There was only one way. "You were at the bar?"

"Yes."

Dread very quickly filled up the Josef-shaped hole that had been forming in Mick's chest. His mind went from wondering whether or not he done something wrong, to wondering _dear god how massively had he fucked up_. After chocking out some failed attempts at words, he managed, "Oh bloody fuckin' hell, I'm so sorry! Fuck! Josef, what did I _do?_ "

Josef shook his head and waved his hands slightly as if to dismiss it, "You didn't _do_ anything Sniper-"

Mick was having none of that. "No, Josef, _what the fuck did I do?_ "

Medic looked just about everywhere but Micks face. "Well..." He settled for inspecting his hands as he muttered, "You kissed me."

"I _what?!_ "

Josef was quick to reassure him, blushing deeply. "It is okay! You were... sweet about it. Not forceful or anything of that nature."

"Fuck! Shit!!" The medic had somehow managed to say something worse than all the worst case scenarios that had been zipping through Mick's head. He whipped his glasses off, meeting Josef's eyes. "Christ, I'm _so_ sorry-"

Medic waved his hands again, this time much more insistent. "Nono, I am aware that you were drunk and you don't remember, and I am not holding it against you." Josef's hands found each other in front of his chest, and he fumbled them. "But... it made me realize. What I want out of this? ... You are not going to want that."

Mike looked down at his feet, heart pounding. He didn't think he could possibly feel worse. "I'm sorry, Josef. I understand, completely."

The doctor nodded, and Mick could tell Josef didn't feel much better than he did. "Okay."

Sniper closed his eyes and huffed a breath, clenching his hands at his sides. A dark, familiar feeling clawed at his insides, reminding him how the last two years had felt before Josef had started to unknowingly help him fight it. He welcomed it back bitterly, and knew what his next move was. He had already fucked up everything he had, how much worse could it get? He always ruined the best things in his life, why not go big?

He coughed the shaking out of his voice. "Josef? There's something I have to do. You're probably gonna hate me even more for it, but now that I've lost you, I need to do it at least once. Feel free to kill me if you want.”

"Wha-"

Without another word, Mick crossed the space between them in two long strides and stooped to slide his arms around Josef's waist, tugging him close to hug him tightly. His face nuzzled against the Medics neck.

Josef stared at nothing, eyes wide circles still more watery than normal, as he was pressed to Mick's frame. Tucked against him, face fitting neatly between his neck and shoulder because of their height difference. He could feel the bridge of Mick's nose against his neck above his collar, and the little gust of a sigh. Unbeknownst to Mick, his wide hand had naturally found the exact place on Josef's back that it had when they'd kissed in the pub.

Before the BLU could even begin to process what was going on, Mick pulled back slightly, head lifting from Josef's shoulder. He didn't let go, instead clutching him tighter and pressing a firm kiss to Josef's cheek. The brim of his hat brushed against Josef's forehead, and a wry curl of hair just barely tickled the doctor's nose.

This kiss against his cheekbone was a simple and purposeful statement. The gesture conveyed all that was intended behind it, lingering just long enough to show the longing and the farewell in one kiss. Drawing back just enough to stop contact, Mick whispered so softly that Josef barely felt the exhale of words across his face.

"I just needed one that I could remember."

Only then, when he felt Mick start to step away and release him, did Josef react. He snapped back into his body suddenly, panicked and grabbed at the sniper's shirt, pulling him back from leaving. "No! Wait!"

Mick froze in confusion as he was tugged face to face with the BLU, too close to make proper eye contact with him. Their foreheads touched for a second. The only thought in his head was about how close Josef's mouth suddenly was to his own. Josef exhaled shakily against Mick's face, and the sniper tried not to shiver.

Josef sounded embarrassingly feverish when he whispered, still clinging desperately to Mick's shirt, "What you don't remember is that I kissed you back."

Mick blinked, neither of them moved, and both of them were extremely confused.

Josef's head was spinning. Mick had just kissed him, right? Sure it was nothing like the last time, but there was no denying his intention. The medic wasn't entirely sure what was happening, he was sure Mick was sober. There was no way Mick could actually want this though, right? Yet here he was, inches away. Maybe it had been platonic, but it certainly didn't seem so. Whatever this was, Josef sure as hell wasn't going to ruin it now. His fingers twisted into Mick's shirt, and he waited for him to make the next move.

Mick was completely baffled, tugged in close to Josef, face so near they were sharing air. He could feel Josef's knuckles through his shirt, and realized just how tightly the man's hands were twisted in it. He went over last Josef's words in his head, trying to decipher them with any amount of brain capacity that wasn't focused on Josef's beautiful face. Contrary to his actions for the past week and everything that he'd said previous, it sounded like... well it sounded an awful lot like Josef _wanted_ Mick to kiss him. He barely dared to breathe in fear of ruining everything. He had been sure he'd lost his friendship with Josef forever when he'd embraced him uninvited like that, after Josef had explained they wanted different things from each other. But this was not the reaction he'd expected. This was pretty much exactly the _opposite_ of what he'd expected.

Tentatively, not really knowing where he stood, Mick exhaled through his nose and shifted a little closer. Josef's hands tightened in his shirt and he stood higher on his toes, and simultaneously they both pressed forward in a short kiss. It was breathy, awkward, and questioning, but both felt the slightest glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd gotten it all wrong.

Mick took in a sharp intake of breath when Josef moved to press his mouth up against his again, then drew away quickly. He opened his eyes, not quite able to remember closing them, to make sudden fleeting eye contact with Josef before the doctor leaned back in again, lips gently finding his, full of a tentative question that Mick understood clear as day.

_Is this okay?_

He inhaled in a little gasp and wrapped his arms tight around Josef's waist, leaning down desperately to deepen the kiss, hoping that it was answer enough.

He heard Josef make something akin to a squeak before he felt arms wind tightly around his neck. The doctor's glasses collided awkwardly with his nose but neither of them noticed.

Josef felt that wide hand slide up his back and card gently though his hair to cup at the back of his head and neck. Micks warm, stubbly face and lips were a little rough against his but he didn't mind in the slightest. He wound his arms around mick tighter, aching for closeness. The kiss was deep and full, and Josef truly felt like this time it was _his_. He never wanted to pull away, and he didn't have to. This time, Mick was kissing him and he wasn't going to question it.

And for a few happy seconds, everything was perfect.

Then the humiliation round ended, and Josef felt respawn tug him violently away from _everything_ and into cold blackness.

Micks eyes snapped open as Josef crumpled. He caught the man in his arms and propped his body against his chest to keep him upright, holding him close. He blinked a few times, trying to register what exactly just happened.

All he could think about was that Josef smelled like rain and pine. He smelled vaguely of disinfectant and light cologne, but mostly like honey and rain. Earthy, pine needle and forest-filtered rain. And he kissed like it was a treasured, beautiful thing.

Sniper shook the thought out of his head and gently lowered Josef's body to the ground. He knelt there over him for a while, watching his face. It almost looked like he was asleep. Mick could still feel where Josef's hands had been curled in his shirt, and he smoothed the cloth back down. With a small, private smile, Mick reached out and brushed back the messy hair on Josef's forehead.

"See ya tomorrow, Jo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These sweet idiots finally feckin figured it out!
> 
> Also, come say hi to me on tumblr to see my art of these bois!
> 
> <https://anonymous-astronaut.tumblr.com/post/626202131133825024/more-snipermedic-fanart>  
> 


	21. Let Me Get This "Straight"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm alive!! So sorry about the wait, I've just been going thru some medical problems recently and haven't had the extra energy to write. This fic is not abandoned, it is my baby and I am continuing to work on it as much as I can! I can't promise I'll be able to be super regular with posting, but I'm not going to give up on this and I am getting better!
> 
> Here's a pretty fluffy lil chapter for ya <3
> 
> Location: Fastlane. Song: I Want To Kiss You by The Spook School

Josef opened his eyes.

He was in his respawn cubical, the rest of the BLU team starting to file past to the teleporter to be sent to the main base. 

The sweet memory of events before his death came flooding back to him, and he covered his face with his hands as blush crept up his cheeks.

Had that really just happened? He grinned into his palms at the tingly memory of Mick's kiss against his lips. Yes, yes it _had_ happened. How was he supposed to wait until tomorrow to see Sniper? Then again, how was he supposed to face him at all? He desperately wanted to see Mick as soon as possible of course, but he also didn't know what the hell to say after avoiding him so much. He wasn't really sure where they stood after what had just happened, this meant Sniper felt the same way, right? it had to, there was no other way to interpret his actions. There was no other explanation. 

A fist pounding against the side of his cubical and a sharp "Get a move on, wet nurse!" from Demo snapped him out of it, and he ducked his head to conceal his blush, carefully molding the smile off his face.

That night was a long one for the doctor. He did his best to hide his excitement around his teammates -no need to give them a reason to bully him- but once he was alone and in his lab he felt as giddy as a teenager. He sat with his legs bent up on his chair behind his desk and whispered to Archimedes, who was nestled on his knees, "Er küsste mich! Niemand hat mich jemals so geküsst..."

The bird cooed at him, and he giggled. Josef didn't get any sleep that night, but for once it wasn't because he was scared. 

The next morning he took every precaution possible to lay low. He _needed_ to talk to Mick today, and he didn't want to give anyone reason to keep a close eye on him. He worked hard for a few matches just like he usually did, fighting until BLU lost enough times they stopped caring. Only then, when it was safe to slip away would he go to find Mick.

But today of all days BLU was actually winning the morning matches, and he had to stay or someone would notice his absence. He couldn't concentrate on the fight, and kept his eyes nervously averted from all of Mick's usual perches, as if the mere sight of the Australian would make him weak in the knees.

It was nearly evening before things started to die down enough for him to sneak away. He had pinpointed which building Mick was in from the direction snipper bullets were taking out his teammates from. He hadn't been headshot once today and couldn't even begin to unpack that, choosing instead to focus on getting to the nest.

Josef tried to run to the building, but the RED Scout buried a few shotgun rounds in him before he got there. He woke in respawn and set off again, only to be toasted to a fine crisp by the Pyro. It happened three more times; stabbed by the Spy, blown to pieces by the Demo, taken out by Scout _again_. He usually didn't have too much trouble getting around unnoticed, he felt like a spy in training with how well he could sneak around these days, but today of all days he couldn't seem to stop dying.

He was about halfway between the spawn room and the nest, back against a crate and syringe gun up and ready. A few walls and storage crates stood between him and the building, but he had just seen the RED Pyro round a corner, Spy hunting and probably keeping a lookout for him too. He didn't know which way they'd gone or which way to go to avoid getting his skin roasted, so he waited, bouncing on the balls of his feet, for the Pyro to either leave or come around the corner and kill him. Again.

The now familiar feel of a laser sight darting wildly in his eyes caught his attention, and he blinked and looked up out of habit before remembering he was trying to _avoid_ looking at Mick in fear he might melt into a puddle of mushy Medic goo. An arm waved at him from a high widow and a fuzzy feeling spread through his chest when he recognized the fingerless glove and the hand of his favorite Sniper. Then it pointed at him and he blinked. Josef shrugged with a quiet confused laugh, not understanding what Mick expected of him. It pointed again, and he looked down to see the red dot on the ground in front of his feet. It whizzed around in a few tight little circles before moving off. He watched it trail away from him and stop, like it was waiting for him. It squiggled around impatiently. He understood suddenly, laughing to himself, and crept after it obediently. The dot lead him through the walls and boxes like a cat, stopping and turning back a couple of times to keep him out of harms way, or so he assumed.

It lead him to the door without encountering anyone, and he bit down a smile. It was embarrassing to know Mick had probably seen him die all those times, but he found he didn't mind too much. Mick had wanted to get him here safely, and it was oddly nice to feel... taken care of. He trotted to the stair case, nervous to go up. He didn't really know what he was supposed to say or do now, so he decided just to act like nothing had happened yesterday and hope that worked. He hopped up the stairs with a little too much energy, plastering on what he hopped was a " _we totally didn't kiss yesterday'_ face.

Mick was in his usual spot, back to the doorway looking relaxed and handsome with his rifle out the window. He didn't turn around, but spoke over his shoulder. "Evenin' mate."

Josef was practically buzzing from the inside out. "Yes, hello."

A few seconds of blistering silence passed, and then the Sniper chuckled that low laugh of his the drove Josef crazy. "That was... quite a spectacle there. Wow."

The breath he'd been holding broke through with a odd sort of snort. "Oh, shut up Dummkopf."

Mick turned his head and grinned brilliantly at him, letting out a dismissive _pffft_ before asking teasingly, "How many times did you die?"

Josef huffed and hopped to sit on a crate a few feet behind Mick. It was the crate he usually sat on when he was up here, in fact he'd sat on it enough times he was fairly certain it qualified as _his_ crate now. He leaned back on his hands, trying to look comfortable in spite of the nerves raging through him. "Scheisse. I don't know, seven?"

Sniper just continued to look at him with his stupid stunning face, with a stupid stunning smile and a raised eye brow. All that Josef could think of was that he'd never noticed that Mick's smile was slightly lopsided. How had he not noticed that before?

"You curse a lot don't ya?"

He looked up from where he was staring subconsciously at Micks lips. "Excuse me?"

"You curse. All the time. It's in German, but I can still tell you're cursin'."

He blinked. This wasn't exactly the conversation he'd pictured. "Oh, I suppose so? I didn't realize."

Mick smirked. "Heh, I think it's kinda cute."

The word hit the medic's heart like a blow from a sledge hammer, he felt it down to his bones. Mick had called him cute once before, and it had practically haunted his daydreams, but this time Mick was _sober._ He opened his mouth to respond, though with what he had no godly idea, but Mick just continued talking.

"I quite like German, actually. Its a neat soundin" language, innit? Some people thinks it's aggressive or somethin', and yeah, it _can_ be, but that applies to every language if you ask me. I've seen plenty o' angry Aussies gummin' on about god knows what, and trust me _that_ sounds aggressive." He went back to his scope, still talking over his shoulder, "German sounds cool when someone's just talking causally. Like when you do it."

Josef stared at him. Mick never talked this much, at least not unprompted. Was he rambling? He definitely appeared to be rambling, but he was so calm about it, it was kind of hard to tell.

"I do what?" Medic asked dumbly, putting way more energy into wondering if Sniper felt as nervous as he did than actually listen to what he was talking about.

"You talk in German. When you're not paying attention or if you're angry or somethin'. It's cool, I like it, I wish I knew what you were saying."

Medic drummed his heels on his crate, swallowing awkwardly. "Oh. Well, you could always... ask?"

Mick sat up from his scope, but he didn't turn around. "Oh, yeah alright." He trailed off.

The only sound that followed ways the heels of Josef's boots on his crate.

Neither of them wanted to sit in silence right now, though it had never bothered them before. Josef had a busy enough mind to enjoy quiet, and Mick thrived on silence. But right here, right now there was a tightness in Medic's chest, a thick unspoken weirdness that hung heavy in the air the longer it went unaddressed. One of them was going to have to mention it, and something told him it wasn't going to be Sniper.

Josef opened his mouth to bring up the massive elephant crowded in the nest with them, But Mick (who had, unbeknownst to Medic, been scoping in on a tree stump to do _anything_ but stare longingly at the beautiful man behind him) cut him off and sat suddenly rigid, muttering "Aw shite!"

Josef stiffened on his crate, "What, what is it?"

"You might have to leave mate, your Spy knocked my Med and Heavy in one pass, BLU's charging, you guys might turn the tide real quick." Mick explained hurriedly, still tracking the fight through his scope. "Ah fuck there goes Demo, I gotta move."

Mick stood and brushed off his knees turning away from the window, and Josef blinked out of the trance he'd been having at the back of Sniper's head when they were suddenly face to face. Mick stood there, staring down at him, and Josef scooched awkwardly off his crate and straightened up. The doctor knew he needed to leave, now that they were winning he'd be expected to actually help, and if they lost after a glimpse of hope he'd have hell to pay later.

He coughed, and broke the silence. "Well, I should go, my team will be wondering..."

Sniper looked down rubbed the back of his neck in a default action. "Yeah, me too, I should go help uh... stop em"."

Mick bit the inside of his lip and his eyes darted away, nervous concerned and confused, and Josef's heart clenched. There was no way in hell he was just going to leave him standing there wondering if something was wrong. He didn't care if it was awkward, it had been awkward every step of the way with Mick and he hadn't let that stop him before.

He stepped foreword suddenly, stood up on his toes, and pressed a firm kiss to the Australian's cheek, just below the corner of his mouth. Mick froze to the spot, eyes widening behind his glasses. Josef could tell because his eyebrows shot up above his aviators, and it made him smile. He also noticed that the last time Mick had kissed him the Aussie must have bent down a considerable amount -he hadn't realized just how high up Mick's mouth was. He cursed himself internally for being so short.

Still close to Mick's face, Josef murmured softly so his breath would tickle across Sniper's cheek, "Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Mundy," and turned to trot down the stairs.

He heard Mick's low giddy chuckle behind him before he reached the bottom floor, and called back up to him. "I'll find you after the last match, ja?"

"See ya then. Uh, auf-Auf Wiedersehen?" Mick called down uncertainly. He butchered the pronunciation, but surprisingly enough he'd tried. To Medic, it was possibly the most adorable thing he could have done. Damnit, now he wished he'd given Mick a real kiss. The doctor decided to give him one after the last match, and ran out to help his team win.

They didn't.

Nor did they win the next.

Or the Next

By the time the final match ended, Josef was exhausted and fully prepared to book it to the nearest building and insure his team lost sight of him, also hopefully dodge any blood-hungry REDs. He wove towards the building he'd last seen Sniper in, and searched every inch of it when he reached the nest, but the gangly RED was nowhere to be seen. He ran to the next building and searched it as well, anxiety about the last few matches and excitement to see Mick racing through his veins.

"Herr Sniper?" He called out tentatively.

There was no reply. The humiliation round was going to end soon, and he was running out of time. He ran to a stairwell he'd already been up and stood in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. He couldn't figure out why it was so important, but he felt like it was imperative he see Mick before the last round ended. He spun in a useless circle next to the stairs, unsure of where else to search.

Then a whirl of long RED limbs came vaulting around a corner up ahead, and everything was okay. The entire day was pushed right out of his mind, and Josef grinned at the man down the hall from him.

Mick spotted Josef and jogged to a stop an unsure distance away, hands anchored on his knees as he caught his breath. "Sorry mate, I died _right_ before the bloody match ended, soon as I respawned I ran to the buildin' I was in, but you weren't there, and then I ran here," he wheezed in effort to explain.

Josef walked a little closer to him, palms up, halving the distance between them. "Es ist in Ordnung, don't worry about it Herr Sniper."

Mick cocked a lopsided grin at him. "What's that mean then?"

Medic smiled back and translated. "It means it's alright, I said it's okay."

"Oh. Good." Mick nodded and coughed softly, straightening and taking a hesitant step forward. Unexpectedly, he also reached up to slide off his aviators, folding them carefully, and Josef immediately got lost in his eyes. The green one caught light with a mischievous little glint, and the dark one drew him in like a magnet. Sniper stared down at the glasses he'd just taken off before glancing up shyly to meet Josef's gaze.

They both faltered forward and stopped. Sniper took another step and gestured awkwardly at Medic's face in a half-hearted attempt at communication, and Josef watched as his mismatched gaze flashed between the doctor's eyes and lips.

"Can I, um." Mick tried. Josef could see him curse to himself before he tried again. "Can...can I-?"

The Medic was already walking toward him. He placed a hand on Sniper's chest and pressed up to his toes to extend his height, face tilted up. Mick leaned down to close the remaining distance between them.

Josef made a small noise as soon as Mick kissed him, and clutched slightly at his shirt, pressing up as far as he could. The kiss was very sincere, but it was also quick and small and over before either of them wanted to be. Josef lifted up again, but Mick drew away a bit.

"Wait-"

Josef's eyes widened and his heart started racing faster out of panic rather than excitement. He stepped back, immediately searching Mick's eyes for a sign of what he'd done wrong, but Mick put hand on his back to keep him close.

"Wait, no no hear me out now, just let me get this straight," Mick said softly.

Josef blinked up at him, calmed by the fact that Mick at least wanted to be close to him. "What?"

Mick squinted at him in confusion with those beautiful eyes. "So, you _want_ me to uh, k-kiss you? Yeah? That's the uh, signal I'm gettin' from this?"

Josef stared at him, having _just_ enough self control to stop his mouth from falling open. "Excuse me?"

Mick shifted awkwardly. " _This_. This is okay with you? You wanna to do this, yeah?"

Josef spluttered at him, feeling a laugh bubbling up in his chest at the notion. "What?! Mick are you _blind_?”

“Huh?”

Josef laughed fully and shook his head, his sudden panic melting away. “I have wanted this for _weeks,_ Dummkopf! _Months!_ I’ve been staring guiltily at you wishing for this for so long!”

Mick flushed scarlet and ducked his head slightly, which only brought their faces closer. “Ah bloody hell, but why'd you go and say you and me didn’t want the same thing then?”

Josef quieted his laughter and said sincerely, “Because after you kissed me, not a second went by where I didn’t long for it. I didn’t think it was something you actually wanted.”

Mick looked away, shy as ever, but moved his hands up to cup Josef’s face. The doctor shivered when he felt long, wide fingers gently wrap around the back of his neck. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time too. I’m sorry I uh, forgot the first one.”

Josef bit his lip. “Do you want to make up for it?”

Mick leaned a bit closer. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

And yet again, as if the clock itself was pitted against them, their lips had barely brushed together before they were interrupted by Josef's untimely death. Mick cursed and caught him easily, hugging the little BLU's literal deadweight to his chest.

He rested his chin on Josef's head and held him, not wanting to lay him on the ground just yet. Mick closed his eyes, laying his cheek against Josef's dark curls and cursing again quietly. He could feel the warmth leeching out of his body, bringing dread along with it as he realized just how impossible all of this was. What were they even doing, what were either of them expecting out of this?

They were playing with fire, and both of them knew it. Nothing could come out of this but a massive mess.

But, as he kneeled down and set Josef gently on the dusty wooden floor, reaching out to gently caress his cheek, he realized that he really didn't care. Mick died just about every day of his life, danger was always something he chose. As far as he was concerned, a massive mess didn't seem like too big a price to pay to see Josef smile again.


	22. Lights Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This chapter hurt to write, I imagine it'll hurt to read for the first time too. 
> 
> I mean I put angst in the tags for a reason folks.
> 
> Location: BLU Base. Song: Who Will Save You Now by Les Friction

Josef kicked at the cubical wall when he woke up in the BLU respawn room. This was ridiculous, is was like the universe was laughing at him and Mick for trying to... whatever it was they were trying to do. It felt like he was just getting his hands on something good and the world was trying to kick it away.

Muttering curses to himself, he shrugged the heavy pack off his shoulders and caught it as it fell in a practiced move, pushing out into the locker room and jamming his equipment in his cubby. It was quiet around him which wasn’t too unusual, considering he’d made it to the end of the round. Everyone else must have just died early and already teleported back, it wasn't like they were going to wait for him.  
  
He made his way towards the teleporters in the back, moving on autopilot as he tried to think of a way to get an actual moment alone to talk to Mick. Today had been proof enough that their usual methods just weren’t cutting it anymore, they needed to make some kind of plan.

He stepped onto the circular devise, folding his arms behind him and closing his eyes as it spun around to take him to base. He tended to get dizzy if he kept them open, and didn't like the weird sight of being in-between spaces. He'd always wanted to ask an Engineer how it functioned, but he hadn't worked with any before now, and the BLU Engie didn't talk to him.

“Grab him.”

He heard the voice before he had a chance to open his eyes or orient himself. His eyes flew open as he was grabbed in a tight hold from behind, pinning his folded arms behind him and rendering him completely helpless in a single second.

Josef gasped in surprise and kicked out, trying to squirm away as he was lifted off his feet.   
  
“Oi! Quit squirmin' you bilge rat!” growled a slurred voice in his ear, and the medic only registered through rising panic that it was Demo trapping him because of the accent.

He turned his head to try and see who had first spoken, who else was there, hoping frantically it was Scout. The kid had at least seemed to somewhat dislike seeing him in pain, thought the words _grab him_ weren't comforting.

But the Scotsman was walking backwards, keeping Josef's feet off the ground and securing him to his chest in a tight armlock, and all the medic could see was the teleporters receding down the hall as his only escape while he was carried away. 

“Where’d he say ta go?” Demo grunted, obviously not talking to him. His breath huffed over Josef's neck, and it reeked of alcohol. Josef flinched at the feeling of the man being so close to him.

He doubled his wriggling when the voice that answered did so with a French accent, “He is in the training room, I believe.”

Fuck. Josef knew exactly who that was, there was only one person it could be. He knew how much Spy hated him, the Frenchman made it perfectly clear. His was the last voice the doctor wanted to hear.

But worst of all, he knew who they were talking about. And the thought of _him_ scared Josef more than Spy ever could.

After the last medic had died, Heavy became the unspoken leader of the BLU team. It was how things were, Josef had shown up to this dynamic. Just the thought of being dragged to Heavy right now, restrained and helpless, made his heartrate skyrocket. He writhed and tried to kick back and down at Demo’s knees, but the Scotsman crushed thick arms around his ribs in punishment, and lifted him at a higher angle so his short legs could kick at nothing but air.

Josef wheezed, eyes leaking at the corners at the pain in his chest. ”Please!' He gasped, "Why are you-“

”Shut your puss and stop wrigglin' 'for I snap you like a twig, you pathetic shite!” Demo snarled, cutting him off and tightening his hold so Josef was too busy fighting for breath to continue speaking anyway.

They turned a hallway and his backwards view of the teleporters was cut off. He heard a door being opened behind them, leading to the base gym from what he could tell, presumably held open by Spy.

The voice behind him confirmed it. ”Through here.” 

The combination words and the sight of the teleporters, his escape route, made his situation suddenly seem so much more real. Josef twisted in Demos grip, gasping, “No, no-“ 

He watched helplessly as the doorway passed over him, his fussing ignored as Demo backed him into the room, and it was like some sixth sense took over. The very air in the room was different, it hung in a way that set his teeth on edge, and it told him that Heavy was right behind him. It set every hair on end, and he started to shake slightly. 

As he watched, Spy followed in and closed the door, sliding the lock into place with a resounding click. Something about that sound, the knowledge that he was trapped in here with that huge horrible presence behind him made Josef crack. The second his exit was blocked, pure panic washed over him, and in a desperate move he drew his legs up and curled in as much of a ball as he could around Demo’s arms before springing back to smash the back of his head against the Scotsman’s face. 

Demo hollered in pain and dropped him immediately, and the medic managed to land on his hands and knees. He sprang forward towards the door, Spy raising a patronizing eyebrow as he approached and not even bothering to try and stop him. 

Massive fingers dug into Josef's hair, and he screamed as he was thrown back on the floor by his dark curls. 

Before he could sit up, a huge shoe steadied itself over his throat. He didn’t dare look up at the person wearing it, staring instead at the toe of the boot hovering over his jugular.

“Move, and I crush throat.”

Josef stayed completely still, even holding his breath as the boot put a small amount of pressure on his neck. He was well aware that the respawn shut off as soon as the last person went through the system at the end of the day, and that if he pulled something like that again he might not walk out of here alive. Considering how his last confrontation with Heavy went, he probably wouldn’t be upright and walking out of here at all, but at least he might still be breathing. 

After a few seconds of stillness, Heavy moved his foot off his windpipe. “Good. Get up.”

Josef carefully got to his feet, trying not to move too fast or too slow and trigger a response. He couldn’t hide the fact that his whole body was shaking with adrenaline, nor that his pupils were blown with fear.

But Heavy already knew he was afraid. He’d made sure if that. 

The massive man stood in front of him, and Josef had to strain against every muscle in his body to stand his ground and not shrink away.

Heavy turned his head slightly to address Demoman, but didn’t take his eyes off of his medic. “Ax.”

Demo nodded, apparently already aware of what was being asked of him. “Aye mate.”

Josef didn’t like the sound of that. he didn't like the sound of that at all. "Ax" was the name Demo's teammates called him, at least the ones that the man didn't hate. Heavy didn’t use the team's nicknames very often, and when he did it was only when he was in a good mood. Whatever this confrontation was about, Heavy wasn’t angry about it. Somehow, that didn’t make Josef feel any better. He was usually left alone if Heavy wasn’t mad, so if Heavy wasn't mad why was he here?

Again, it felt like the rules had changed without his knowledge. 

From what he had come to gather, the nicknames had been Butcher's thing. They had all started before he got here, and no one had ever bothered to give him one. The BLU team didn’t use them much anymore, but it seemed to be in the old medic's honor that they weren’t discarded entirely. Josef didn’t feel too comfortable with the previous medic's legacy being dangled in front of him like that, but he never really felt comfortable at his base so it wasn't anything new.

Josef tracked the Demoman warily as he approached hating that he had nowhere to run. The man grinned gruesomely and pulled a thin rope cord out of his pocket. Josef took a tiny step away from him, and Ax cocked a mocking eyebrow at him.

“Don’t worry wet nurse, this is just to make sure you don’t forget yourself an' pull another stunt like you did just then." He gestured for Medic's hands, "Wrists together, go on.”

Josef swallowed thickly and put his wrists out in front of him, letting Demo tie them together so tightly the cord dug into his skin. He didn’t say a word, and tried to shake as little as possible. 

“Do you know what happened to me today, doctor?” Spy piped up in an unnervingly conversational tone, crossing to stand by Ax's side in front of him. He was called Veil by those that bothered to use the name, and Josef wasn’t one of those people. 

Josef didn’t think he could speak properly if he wanted to, so he just shook his head. 

Spy nodded like he’d expected so much, exhaling a gust of cigarette smoke across Medic's face before starting a slow walk around behind him. It took every nerve in his body not to turn with him, and he forced himself to stay facing forward. He kept his eyes on Ax, whos grin just got more mean.

Spy continued from behind him. His voice was sickeningly calm and collected, like how someone would speak to a child. “Oh? I’ll tell you then. I was heavily injured, doctor. I had been shot by that little snot-nosed Scout. Right about,,, here.” A gloved hand barely whispered over his lower ribs on the left side, and Josef shivered in disgust.

“I was running back towards our respawn. I was looking for you, doctor. Do know why that is?” 

Josef shook his head jerkily. Veil was standing right behind him now, he could feel his nicotine-laden breath on the back of his neck. 

“I was looking for your assistance. I thought maybe, upon seeing your teammate bleeding and in pain, you would do be useful for once. I thought you would help. Do the job you were hired to do.”

He heard Spy’s butterfly knife open behind him, and his whole body froze. He knew for a fact that Veil could do that silently, the Spy had been loud on purpose. 

“Do you know what happened instead doctor?”

Josef didn’t dare move, but he knew he couldn’t ignore the question. His lips barely moved as he whispered. “N-no.”

In a flash, the cool blade was hovering a millimeter above his skin, poised at his neck like the snake that held it. 

Veil's voice didn’t waver a bit, didn’t lose a ounce of its honeyed tone, but as he spoke, he pressed the knife to Medic’s skin. “The RED Spy cornered me on my own side of the field, and slit open my throat.” 

Josef inhaled sharply through his nose, closing his eyes and doing his best to stay still as the spy slowly made a clean cut across his neck, just nicking through the first few layers of skin. The medic felt a few thin trails of blood spill over and leak down to his collar, and fought to keep his hands from coming up to cover the wound. 

“And me. Wannae know how I died today?”

He opened his eyes at Ax’s voice, meeting the eye of the Scotsman. 

Ax’s grin turned to a toothy grimace and he sprung forward without warning, raising a foot to land a savage kick to Josef's chest. “That bloody rocket-crazed American shot me in the gut is what happ’ned!”

Spy idly side-stepped his body as Josef shot back from the force of the kick. He slammed into some metal gym equipment, unable to control his fall at all without the use of his hands, and landed in a heap at the feet of a weight lifting bench. 

He didn’t bother trying to stand, Spy and Demo were already approaching him again. Surprisingly, that wasn’t what he was worried about.

What scared him the most was that Heavy hadn’t said anything yet. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t hurt him. He was just standing there with his arms crossed... watching. 

Josef didn’t have long to dwell on it before Demo was heaving him up by the front of his shirt. The man sneered in his face, all teeth and hate and bitter enjoyment.

“Then, jus' as I got back on the field, that fuckin Scout and that bat of his-“ Ax lifted Josef off his feet and threw him back so his head smacked off the bar across the top of the cage around the bench. “-right across the back of me noggin, imagine that!”

Lights danced behind Josef’s eyes, and it got harder to focus on anything beyond the two men in front of him. 

“You’ll knock him out if you keep that up,” Spy drawled.

“Shut your trap, Veil,” Demo barked back. To Josef they seemed like street dogs fighting over a half dead rat. 

The Frenchmen scoffed and rolled his eyes, stepping in close to Josef again. The medic shrank back. He hated being the rat.

The Spy followed with him, leaning too close. “I then died to a bullet, right as I was about to get a major kill for our team. Little did I know there was a laser sight right in the middle of my forehead.” Josef waited to be hit or cut, but Spy just blew cigarette smoke in his face. He coughed an tried to blink it out of his eyes, and had to bite back a scream when a sudden searing pain dug between his brows.

It took him a second to figure out that Veil was putting his cigarette butt out on his forehead. 

Josef grit his teeth as Spy rubbed it in with a final twist, already awaiting his next punishment. It seemed as it they were taking turns with him. 

Right on cue, Demo shoved him down to sit on the bench. “Next round, I got ran into that bloody fucking excuse of an engineer. Shot me three times he did, point black with his shotgun. Wannae know where? _Here_!”

Josef didn’t even have time to brace himself for the punch to his ribs, and cried out as it sent him to the floor.

“ _Here!_ ”

He raised his forearms instinctively over his face, but the kick came to his stomach. 

He rolled over, curling in on himself, but his brain was one step ahead of the pain. He tucked his knees under him, and launched himself towards the door before Demo could show him the third place he was shot.

He got maybe a meter and a half before the weighted end of a massive lift weight smashed the tile floor a hairs breadth in front of his face.

Medic didn’t look up at the man holding it. He knew Spy couldn’t lift something like that, much less use it as a weapon. And Demo was still behind him. There was only one other person in the room.

Josef didn’t know if Heavy had ever gone by a name. All he knew was that nobody used it anymore, and that it probably was reserved for Butcher and Butcher alone. 

“Do you want to know how Heavy died, proto?” The man above him said softly.

Josef desperately didn’t want to know, but he didn’t dare move. He just stared at the floor, looking at the cracks spreading through the white tile and picturing them in his skull. 

Heavy heaved the weight off the ground, letting little pieces of plaster fall off of it from its encounter with the floor, and threw it to the side. Josef flinched at the sound it made clanging off the floor and equipment. 

Heavy turned without word and walked to a small rest area against the wall by the door, and began calmly filling a coffee pot with water in the sink. 

Josef didn’t move from his spot on the floor, and they all watched in silence as the water started to heat up. 

The cut on Medics neck was stinging, and he was pretty sure one of his ribs had been broken when he hit the gym equipment. The burn on his head hurt, but he knew it the least serious of his injuries. He probably had a concussion too. Unbidden, he’s mind tried to calculate just how much more he could take and stay alive. 

Finally, the machine beeped that the water was finished, and Heavy removed the pot. Only then did Medic realized the man had never actually put coffee in it. It was just plain, clear water in the pot. He brought it over, swishing it in an idle circle, looking slightly bored at the steam. 

“Heavy died to fire,” he said at last.

Josef's throat tightened with terror, and he immediately started struggling against the cord around his hands. He was suddenly quite willing to try anything to avoid whatever was coming next. It had never worked before, but talking his way out of this was looking like his only option.

“Please, I’m sorry, please don’t-“

Heavy’s voice cut him off easily from above. “Proto does not want to die to fire?”

Josef shook his head vehemently and didn't have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how desperate he sounded. “No, no-” 

“Neither did Heavy.”

Josef knew he wasn’t going to die from it. He knew that the coffee machine didn’t go to high enough temperature, and that it didn’t cover enough skin area to kill him. But that didn’t make it feel any less like he was going to die when Heavy threw boiling water over his head and shoulders. 

He couldn’t open his eyes all the way. They were swollen shut. He was in his back on the cold tile floor, and he could feel the spots on his back where his garments were fusing with the scalded skin on his shoulders. Blood was matted in his hair, and his scalp was swollen and burnt and bleeding. He didn't know where his glasses were. He realized passively that some of his teeth was chipped, and he wondered where the other pieces went. Had he swallowed them? He didn’t remember. He supposed it didn't really matter. 

How long had he been awake? He didn’t know how long he’d been on the floor, how long it had been since they finally left him here. He knew they had been speaking to him, but after the water everything else that happened was just pain. He didn’t even know how many injures he had now. They'd just kept hurting him, and at this point it didn’t really matter why. He wasn’t sure there had every really been a why. They just had.

He finally got his eyelid unstuck from itself, and stared up at the ceiling. It was weirdly dark, and he panicked for a few seconds, thinking his eyesight had been damaged, before realizing the gym lights had been turned off. 

Somehow, after everything that had just happened to him, all the pain they had just put him through, _that_ was the part that got to him. The part that stuck in his head. They’d left him there, after beating him senseless, bleeding on the floor of the training room, and they’d bothered to turn the lights off. To insure that he’d be alone and in the dark when he finally got the strength to stand up. Like he didn’t even exist. Like he wasn’t worth the electricity bill they didn’t even have to pay. Tears built up and spilled unchecked from the corners of his chubby, swollen eyes, and Josef sobbed quietly at the knowledge that no one was coming to turn the lights on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the whole nickname thing seems a little thrown in suddenly. BLU Spy and Demo are pretty prominent characters now, and it makes them more distinct from their RED counterparts, I felt like it needed to be mentioned. I know Butcher's name hasn't been mentioned in a while, sorry if it was a bit sudden.


	23. Flickering Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: BLU base. Song: He’s Hurting Me by Maria Mena 
> 
> It doesn’t get a whole lot better yet... 
> 
> Don’t worry if you’re missing Mick! He’s in the next chapter :)

It was a long time before he moved.

What little light was seeping through the high thin gym windows was beginning to fade, and Josef knew he couldn’t stay here all night. He had get to his lab and heal himself before he passed out again, because if he didn't, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d wake back up.

The thought of moving made him sick. He felt numb, the pain was dull and buzzing and far away, it was a woozy sort of manageable. Like he was floating. He knew the illusion would be broken if he tried to get up. But he had to move. He had to get up.

Josef opened his mouth, and tried to speak. Nothing came out, so he swallowed and tried again. His mouth was dry and tasted of iron.

“Bewegung," he whispered. It was harsh and barely above a whisper, but it was there. He tried again.

“Komm schon Josef, _beweg dich!_.”

Clenching his teeth, he strained his neck and lifted his head off the ground. The movement made him exhale in a sob as he felt bits of his hair rip out, stick to his blood and burned skin on the floor. Sliding his elbows back and in, he pushed his shoulders up off the ground, propping himself up. He whined through his teeth, his broken ribs shifting excruciatingly in several places.

He wasn't going to be able to sit all the way up like this, he'd pass out if he tried to bend forward anymore. With a roar, he pushed himself to the side that seemed to have the least injuries, flopping himself into his stomach. His breath came in gasps now, flecks of blood painting the tiles with each pained exhale. After a quick break to gather strength, he got his forearms back under him and lifted into a sort of half-plank. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t as bad as trying to sit up from his back.

It wasn’t until they were clenched right in front of his face that he realized some of his fingers were broken, grossly swollen and bruised. He didn’t remember how that had happened, but he didn't try to think about it too hard. He instead made sure to take note of it for next time he had to try and open a door. Which, if he managed to make it to his feet, was hopefully going to be soon.

Taking a deep breath, he threw one arm forward. Then another. And another, dragging his body along the floor. Slowly, he army crawled forward until he hit the first piece of exercise equipment he could find in the near-dark. He’d never been more happy to see an elliptical.

Using his hands and the crooks of his arms, he crawled up the machine, ignoring the pain in his fingers and using the strength of his relatively unharmed shoulders muscles to drag himself to his knees. He got one foot under him, and with a mighty cry of effort threw the other under him and stood, clinging to the elliptical for support.

“Yes!!" he gasped, words of self encouragement wheezing between labored breaths. "Ha haha, yes. Yes... Ich werde es schaffen.”

Josef rested his head on one of the handlebars for a moment, keeping himself up mostly by his arms as he just breathed. He’d made it to his feet, that was the most important step. If he could do that, he could get out of here, he knew it.

He looked up, trying to orient himself and locate the exit, and realized one extremely important detail. It hadn’t mattered much when he was just staring at the ceiling crying or crawling across the floor, but now that he was standing and ready to try and navigate, the fact that his eyesight was worse than old potato’s was going to be a problem. His glasses were _gone_ , and he had zero chance of finding them in the dark. They were probably broken anyway. He doubted the way they'd made it off his face had been gentle.

It pissed him off, and he held on to that feeling to let it lend him energy. He had to work with whatever was available, and right now that was a broken body and terrible eyesight. Could be worse, at least he had legs. Squinting, he could vaguely make out shapes of some other objects in the room with him, so he pushed off the elliptical towards the biggest one and hoped in would be sturdy enough to bare his weight. Luckily it was all exercise equipment in here, and he was the smallest member of the team, he wasn’t exactly likely to break it.

He hit it at a weird angle, bloody hands only just managing to get a grip on the bars and keep himself upright. It was some kind weight pulling machine, but right now it made a pretty good resting spot. He made his way across the room like this, one equipment stand to the next, until all that stood between him and the red blur of the exit sign was white tiles, a puddle of water that had long since cooled from its time in the coffee pot, and empty space.

All he had to do was keep himself standing. Trying to psych himself up in preparation for the pain, he yelled wordlessly into the empty room. It hurt, his voice rang around oddly and didn’t make his head feel great, but it lent him some kind of internal strength. At the peak of his yell, he shoved off and stumbled blindly for the door. He slipped a little in the water and his yell choked off in favor of breathing, but he stayed upright and plowed forward. Figuring it was better to go too fast than end up on the floor again, he allowed his body to fall against the door when he reached it. He missed slightly and his head smacked off the doorframe, forcing him to push back against it to stay upright.

He felt around for the doorknob, twisting it with his wrists so his swollen fingers wouldn’t get stuck between the curved handle and the door. Josef had a brief moment of victory as he heard the click of the door opening, thankful to find that at least he wasn’t locked in, before the door swung open with his weight and he was falling out into the hallway. He cried out went he hit the floor, curling in over his broken ribs and bruised abdomen and hacking up a little more blood. It was way too bright in the hall, and all he wanted to do was close his eye and lie here a little longer, but he was already spurred by pain and his own determination, and he was afraid to loose it.

No giving himself a chance to loose hope, he rolled to get his knees under him, slapping his bloody palms to the floor. He noticed bits of cord wrapped around his wrists, and realized he forgot they'd been tied in the first place. It must have snapped whenever what broke his fingers had happened. He laughed sickeningly, knowing he never would have made it out of there if they’d still been tied. Worth getting his fingers broken, probably.

The medic shoved himself off the ground, barely getting his legs under him in time and sagging against the wall for support. Happy to be standing again, he let himself breathe in celebration for a minute. He stared up at the florescent light above him, even though it stung his eyes a little, just glad it was on. He appreciated being out of the dark too much to look away.

Okay, now he had to navigate to his lab. Where the fuck was he again? If he could make it to the teleports, he knew it was almost a straight shot to the medical wind. Just a long initial hallway and one right turn before those glorious double doors.

Josef trailed red as he stumbled back toward the teleporters. He left smudges of blood on the walls that he knew he’d have to get up early to clean in the morning. He didn’t even know what he'd do about the training room. Leaving it as it was absolutely wasn’t an option, not unless he was _asking_ to be attacked again. The blood was his to clean. The broken equipment he'd just have too throw out. 

He’d settled into a sort of mindless rhythm, slumped against the hall, limping slowly past the teleporters and towards the closest thing he had to a sanctuary. He knew his breathing sounded like a dying car engine, but as long as oxygen was getting to his brain he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He was so close he could smell the antiseptic and soft dove down of the medical wing from here. He rounded the last right turn, and-

And ran right into the BLU Scout.

“Holly shit!” The young merc hollered and leaped back, staring at the state of Josef in shock. His eyes took in every injury, his face twisting in horror.

“H-holy shit...”

There was something like guilt in his eyes as they took in every break and cut and burn. But fear was much more prominent.

Medic looked down, embarrassed for some reason, like it was his fault he looked like this. Maybe it was. He slid by Scout as fast as he could manage, feeling the BLU’s eyes track his back as he shuffled away. He found he didn't care much now that his lab was within sight.

Finally, _finally_ , Josef shouldered into his medical wing. He leaned his weight back so the door shut, groped at the lock uselessly with his broken hands until it slid into place, breathing faster and nearing a breaking point the closer he got to safety. He crossed the room with three final shaky steps collapsed against the gurney and crawled on top. He kicked on the medigun attached above, and was unashamedly sobbing as soon as the blue streams flowed over him. The tears came easily, and showed no sign of stopping. He wasn’t afraid to cry in here, it wasn’t like anyone could see him. Crying alone in his room felt a lot more cathartic and a lot less pathetic than crying on the gym floor. Plus it didn’t hurt as much to cry anymore, now that the gun was working on him.

Josef watched the healing streams stitch and snap his body back together, and only when he felt the last of his ribs heal did he throw back his head and scream in frustration. It was a helpless, hopeless, confused noise, something an animal would make. He hated it, hated himself for making it. He buried his face in his arms.

He’d thought he’d been _safe_. He thought he’d been in the clear, that he was doing it right. It was obvious now that that was exactly what Heavy had wanted him to think, and that safe didn’t exist for him anymore. Maybe it never had. Heavy had waited for him to let his mental guard down, waited for him to settle down from the last scare. The man wanted more than to hurt Josef physically. He wanted to damage him _mentally_. And it was working.

He let his eyes flutter closed, allowing himself to sink into the bed in exhaustion. Exhaustion from pain, from moving, from his own mind. Maybe he deserved this, he thought to himself. Maybe he never was meant to get out of working prototypes, maybe having even this much on an identity was too much to ask and pain was all he deserved.

Josef grabbed the sheet he'd already bloodied up and pulled it over himself, curling up. It was usually not commendable to fall asleep under a running medigun, prolonged exposure could make a person jumpy and shaky, but tonight he didn’t care. He knew how inquired he still was, it was only halfway through healing him and he didn’t plan on staying awake for the other half. Besides, sleeping with it on was a near guarantee of a dreamless rest, and he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep without it tonight.

  
Josef hugged his arms around himself and screwed his eyes closed, pushing every single thought from his head. He wanted nothing more than to let the world fall away, go back to floating now that he was safe.

The light on his desk stayed on.


	24. In Here We're beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Badlands (the building mentioned doesn't actually exist, sorry.)  
> Song: If I Didn't Care by The Ink Spots
> 
> Is the title a Heathers reference? .....Maybe.

"You're certainly on your toes today, lad. Somethin' special planned for today?"

Mick was practically bouncing on his feet at the gate, waiting for the match to begin. He couldn't wait to find Josef and tell him his latest plan, well, if you could call it that. Plan's weren't really his thing, unless it involved taking someone out with a bullet from over a hundred feet away. Whatever it was, it was better than what they were doing now at least, which was senseless scrambling around for a spare second of each other's time. He glanced over at Demo, who was eyeing him curiously, and felt as if his thoughts were written all over his face. He tried for a neutral expression. "Nah, just a bit antsy is all."

The Scotsman nodded, accepting his answer. "Good to see you in high spirits for a match I guess."

Mick squinted from behind his aviators. "Whatcha mean by that?"

Demo looked wholly nonchalant, but Sniper could tell he was being side eyed. "Nothin' mate, nothin'. You've seemed down in the dumps for a mite, glad to see ya with a spark again."

Sniper stiffened slightly. He knew the team had been keeping an eye on him ever since the night at the bar, but he did think they'd been watching him before that. He hadn't thought they'd bother to. Just as he opened his mouth to question Demo about it, the Announcer's voice cut him off, starting the match.

Demo gave him what was probably meant to be a wink, a playful salute, and a "Good luck to ya, Sharps," as he ran out towards the point. 

Mick nodded back, storing the encounter in his brain for later diagnosis. Right now, he had something more pressing to focus on.

He _wasn't_ going to wait until it was convenient this time. He wasn't going to hope they ran into each other. He was going to go snag Josef straight off the battlefield if he had to. Today was to perfect, and they couldn't pass up this chance; he didn't know the next time they'd fight on this map. They needed to be here for his plan, and it was possibly the only way they could really catch a moment alone.

It had to be when Josef wasn't going to die on him.

He was done waiting around for something to go right. It was time to _make_ it go right.

Mick split off and weaved through buildings and a shallow dusty gully towards the BLU spawn, trying to stay out of heavily trafficked areas and hoping he wouldn't be seen. He shouldn't be this far over this early on in the game. If any BLU saw him they'd just think he was a spy, but if his own team saw him he was bound to get some questions. 

He dodged behind a rock and held his breath as the Pyro ran by, glad they didn't glace behind themself as they passed

Sniper peeled off is rock cover once it was clear and made it to the outside of the BLU Spawn, tucking into a corner to wait. For once, luck was on his side and he didn't have to stay for long. Josef came out just minutes later, running out alone towards the point, and Mic took his chance. The sniper shot forward.

He grabbed the back of Josef's pack and pulled him to a stop as carefully but quickly as possible, and the Medic yelled out in shock. 

"Nein! Nein, bitte, lass mich gehen!"

Mick backpedaled at a swift pace, needing to get them both out of sight before anyone else respawned, but something in Josef's voice threw him off. He knew the medic was bond to be surprised -which is part of the reason he'd come from behind to avoid getting shot on a knee jerk reaction- but the _panic_ in Josef's voice sounded like it went beyond that somehow.

"Mate-"

The pleading rush of words didn't stop, running right over Mick's attempt to calm him. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Nein, warum? Was habe ich getan?"

Mick wasn't sure what he was talking about, or why he sounded like that, but he could ask as soon as they were safe. He just had to get them there first.

Josef twisted desperately, babbling and trying to get out of his mediback straps to escape. He tried to turn, straining to look over his shoulder while trying to keep his feet under him as Sniper dragged him off towards the back left of the field. Mick saw a wild look in the doctors eyes, and for a moment he could tell that Josef didn't recognize him.

"Jo!" Sniper hissed, "Josef its me!" He coughed and tried to make his voice sound more calming, but that look in Josef's face scared him. "Shh shh, it's Mick, mate, it's just me!"

Josef blinked back at him, squinting, and Mick noticed a very significant change to his appearance. "Woah, where are your glasses mate?"

At that, the terror left Josef's eyes, and he finally found the wherewithal to respond. "Wha- Mick?"

"Yeah, now why you wonderin' around blinder than a demoman?"

"They, they broke- Mick what are you _doing_?!"

The sniper stopped at a corner and peered around it before promptly starting off again, Medic firmly in tow.

"Takin' you somewhere." He said matter-o-factly. "Why didn't you put 'em in the system this morning?"

"My glasses? I... forgot, Mick, stop for a moment please- where are we going!?"

Josef tried to turn around to follow him, but Mick kept a firm grip on his backpack and he ended up having to walk awkwardly sideways to keep up.

"We're almost there, you'll see," he grunted, not daring to stop.

Mick stopped short in front of a big barn-looking building on the outskirts of BLU side of the field. He released Josef, turned to the door, and slid his rifle off his back. The medic straightened himself out and kept an eye out for their teammates, wondering what the hell was going on. He didn't even know this building could be entered, but when Mick slammed the butt of his rifle against the lock is busted open.

"What is this place?"

"Someplace Snipers know about," he grunted, "Old spot, they removed it from the official field years ago for bein' too convenient a nest. But some of us know you can still get in here."

Josef worried his lower lip between his teeth. "What about BLU Sniper?"

Mick snorted a laugh. "No offense to 'em, but I don't think your Sniper is one of the snipers that knows."

He pulled the door open and slipped in. Medic stayed outside and peered in after him, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. Should he follow? An arm reached out and grabbed his shirt, yanking him through the door and making that decision for him.

Josef stared around while Mick closed up the door behind them, sliding a piece of wood into place to keep the doors shut and tossing the broken lock aside. As long as he didn't leave it on the ground outside, no one would notice it had been broken.

They were in a huge barn-like warehouse with two tables covered in old equipment and miscellaneous items, mostly old weapons and mechanical parts. It seemed like it was being used as a sort of haven for abandoned things, which struck Mick as sort of funny given this was the spot he of all people had chosen to safely meet Josef. 

Speaking of which-

He turned from the door to look at the medic, who was gazing around the space looking nervous and mildly confused. Again, this felt like a strange reaction for the BLU to have, Sniper thought he'd be much more curious about the secrete building. Something was obviously wrong. Mick smiled gently and stepped forward, trying to look as welcoming as possible. He still felt bad that he'd made Josef panic like that, but at least the doctor looked a little more relaxed now.

"Hey. Sorry I gave you a fright mate, just didn't want us gettin' caught."

Josef's head snapped to him as soon as he spoke, and he looked at Mick like he couldn’t believe a human being would bother to smile at him. Like he was waiting to get kicked.

Micks brows furrowed in concern, and he took a careful step forward. “Jo? You alrigh-“

Without warning, Josef dropped his medigun, shot forward, and buried his face in Micks shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist, plowing into him hard enough to drive him a full step back. 

Micks jerked in surprise, staring down at the crown of dark curls buried against his chest. “Woah-” 

Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around Josef's shoulders and cupped the back of his head gently with the other hand as the Medic began to shake. “Woah, easy! Easy there mate, I gotcha.”

Josef didn’t respond, he just shook his head no, shuddered, and clutched Sniper tighter. 

Unsure what to do, Mick just held him, smoothing a hand up and down his back and trying to think of something to say. His head was spinning, wondering what the hell could have possibly happened between the last match yesterday and now that could have made Josef act like this. 

He could feel the outline of Josef's fingers clutch at the back of his vest, and he ran his fingers soothingly through his hair. Somehow, this felt more intimate then kissing him. That had been passionate and instinctive and fueled but rushes of emotion, where this was quiet and still, save for Josef’s breathing. Under his growing concern, Mick couldn't help but think he’d like to just hold Josef like this again, preferably when the medic wasn't panicking. 

After what felt like a few moments too long (not that Mick had any plans of letting go first), the doctor finally pulled away. He didn’t meet Micks eyes, and the Sniper had to keep his hands on his shoulders to keep him from turning away. 

“Hey, hey, what happened to ya? Have a nasty death or somethin?” Mick did his best to sound sympathetic and not just confused, but comfort had never been his strong suit. Besides, he’d never seen Josef like this. The doctor usually seemed so put together, the calm in the chaos, especially on the battlefield. 

Josef shook his head, still visibly shaking. “No, no, nothing’s wrong Sniper.”

Mick stared at him, then reached up and slid his aviators off. “That’s uh, pretty obviously not true mate,” he answered after an awkward second, though not unkindly, fiddling with the glasses.

Josef shook his head harder, looking an awful lot like he was trying to convince himself rather than Mick. “No, it’s fine! It’s fine, really, everything’s fine.”

He forced himself to look up at Mick and meet his gaze. His blue eyes were watery, and his smile looked off. “I’m okay, see?”

Mick frowned down at him. That was the opposite of reassuring. “uh... are you sure?”

Josef nodded, bringing his hands to pat Micks chest, fussing with straighten his collar for something to do. “Of course I am. Just had a long night.” His voice broke slightly, but apparently they were ignoring that fact.

“...Right.”

The medic glanced around the room again, squinting to try and take it in despite his poor vision. “So where have you taken us?” He asked distractedly. It must not have been a real question, because he continued before Mick had a chance to respond. “And I can’t stay long. I believe my team has become more suspicious of me, they will notice my absence.”

Mick nodded along, releasing Josef's shoulder and moving to lean back against one of the cluttered tables. “Yeah, that’s why I brought you here actually.”

Josef’s brow lowered slightly. “Oh?”

"Yeah. I wanted to talk to ya more about,” he gestured awkwardly between them, “...This."

The medic swallowed visibly and nodded, still looking a little on edge.

Mick couldn’t help but want to ask him if he was okay again, but he didn’t want to pry. If Josef didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t have to. He just hoped Josef knew he could tell him, and wished the doctor didn't feel the need to lie about it.

Whatever, he should just focus on why he’d brought the doctor here in the first place. "I... well, this isn't gonna work. Not how we're doing it."

Though the change in Josef was incredibly subtle and well hidden, it was unmistakable. His eyes widened with equal hurt, fear, and loss, and his body stiffened like Mick had struck him. Whatever he'd expected, it hadn't been that. 

Alarmed, Mick jumped to reassure him, standing from his position against the table. "No, no, wait here me out!” He put his hands to his shoulders again, rubbing his hands up and down Josef's arms as if warming him up would make him look less like he’d been frozen to the spot. “Listen, meeting like this can't happen regularly at all, we both know that. It's been dangerous this whole time, and our teams need us. ‘Sides, like you said, we’re gonna be noticed. Meeting at the end of the last match isn't gonna work for me either," he added, making his voice more light-hearted, "it's way too short and you, uh, you keeping _dying_ on me."

Josef calmed visibly at his words, even offered a small apologetic laugh at the end of Mick's little speech. “Agreed. It seems as if you're leading to an alternative?"

Mick steeled himself. This was possibly a very very bad idea, in fact there was no question about it. It was the first time he was going to ask someone this in his life. But the worse answer he could get was no, and he really doubted that was going to happen. "Well, I was wondering... if you'd go down to town? Uh... with me?"

That sounded a lot like a date. That sound way to much like a date. They couldn’t _date_. Mercenaries didn't _date_. Especially not Mann Co. mercenaries. It was the difference between breaking some rules behind closed doors, and assassinating the author of the rules and their mother on live television, setting fire to the rule book and then dancing the Charleston on their corpses. 

But they could both just....happen to be at the same place at the same time. There were no rules against coincidence.

Josef was just staring blankly at him, which wasn't a reaction he'd prepared for, so he tried again. His hand twitched to come up and rub at his neck, but he kept it at his side, wanting to look at least slightly confidant about this. “I guess what I’m saying is, I wanna chance to see you outside of work?”

Josef’s eyes lit up more with each word, smiled and when Mick finished he immediately nodded excitedly. “Yes. Yes Sniper, that sounds nice.” 

“Yes?!”

“Yes! I would love a chance to- ahem, see _you outside of work_.”

“Saturday?”

“The bar?”

“Six?”

Josef grinned. “Five.”

Mick laughed and opened his mouth to respond, but the shrill sound of a machine gun kicked up from outside and they both whipped to look at the door and listen to the battle beyond it. Josef's face fell immediately and there was a flash of that panic Mick had seen earlier, but it was gone before he could be sure.

The BLU fidgeted with his gloves. "I should probably..."

Mick nodded in understanding, giving Josef’s arm an awkward pat, not quite wanting to let go. "Yeah, yeah I get it. Me too."

They stood companionably in front of each other, not really knowing how to say goodbye. Mick got the weird urge to shake Josef's hand or something.

"Whelp." He said after a few seconds.

Josef rolled his eyes at the bushman's awkwardness and, grabbing his medigun off the floor, turned towards the doors of the shed, walking between the two tables. Mick sprang to follow him. They both stopped at the door, and Mick lifted the plank keeping the door shut.

Josef rested his hand on the door handle, staring at his own hand. "Wait a little while after I leave, ja?"

Mick nodded, only half listening. "Got it. And Josef?"

"Yes?"

When the doctor turned to look at him, Mick caught his chin lightly and tilted it up. "Don't forget your glasses, dove."

Whatever it was, Mick may never know, but something about the words hit Josef. His pretty icy eyes filled with emotion, and his voice hovered just above a whisper. "Okay, Mick."

Josef found himself lost in the rare sight of green and brown eyes, but tried not to make it obvious. He reached up and gently ran his fingers over micks temple beside Mick's hazel eye, brushing through his short hair.

"See you on the field."

Those marvelous eyes crinkled at the edges when the Sniper smiled and said, "Whatever ya say, Roo," before leaning down to kiss him softly.

Josef kissed him back, knowing to keep it short before he convinced himself to just stay in this barn with Sniper forever. He pulled away with difficulty, turned and pushed outside, hoping Mick hadn't spotted the tears on his face.

The doctor ran back into the violence of the battlefield and beyond, knowing at least -no matter what happened to him in the next twenty four hours- somebody cared that he'd broken his glasses. 


	25. Guilty of Association

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Location: Badlands and BLU Base.  
> Song: Overwhelmed by Royal & the Serpent
> 
> I've been a writing MACHINE these past few days. Josef and Mick live rent free in my head I swear to god. 
> 
> Anyway, gather round lieblinge, here's the next chapter.

Josef was almost thankful to die, when it was finally over.

It had been a long day, a painful day, and after their little rendezvous in the barn he hadn’t seen Mick for the rest of the battle. Well, besides a glimpse or two out a window every now and then, and one brief encounter at the bottom of a staircase. He’d waved, but Sniper had barely acknowledged his presence besides giving him a weird look. Josef shrugged it of, supposing the man was just taking this new _laying low_ thing very seriously.

The sniper had also started shooting him again which, given their conversation about being more discrete, made perfect sense but was honestly jarring the first time it happened. The shots only came if he was out in the open, and each one was perfect and clean through the skull. Josef supposed he had that to be thankful for.

But at the end of the last match, it wasn’t Mick who took him out. Technically it wasn't even a RED.

He’d been storming the point in a last ditch effort, keeping a steady stream on the BLU Heavy, despite how much he wanted to look the other way and let the man fill with lead. As satisfying as it would be, it wouldn't do him any favors.

When he’d yelled out a warning and pointed to the blur of a RED stickybomb trap up ahead, trying to be helpful, he hadn’t exactly expected his heavy to grab him by the arm and hurl face first him into explosives, allowing the brute to continue unharmed once the dust and Josef's blood mist cleared.

At least stickybombs were quick.

By the time he respawned, still a little wobbly from the surprise of being thrown through the air by his teammate and resulting explosion, the match was already over. He kept his head down as he put away his things, avoiding eye contact with the other BLU's as they respawned one after the other around him.

He went to his respawn cubical and squinted at the diagnostics for his load out, trying to see how to get his glasses back into the system even though he hadn’t had them this morning. He should be able to load the scan from the day before, but that was a little hard to do when you're farsighted and have the vision of a blind mole rat.

He cursed softly under his breath, and glanced around the locker room at his teammates. He wasn’t going to be able to do this alone, and he couldn’t risk fucking up his own respawn. But he couldn't just walk around like this.

BLU Sniper spawned in next to him, cracked his neck and knuckles hideously, and didn’t bother sparing a glance his direction. After spending so much time with Mick, it was hard for Josef to believe the man in front of him was even a sniper. He looked so different, despite being technically nearly identical, hard and gross and mean, and Josef couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the man speak. Even the other members of the team didn’t really talk to him, and Josef didn’t feel too inclined to try.

The Spy was nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise him much. The Frenchman was usually one of the last survivors of humiliation rounds. Besides, Josef would be doing his best to stay as far from Veil as possible for the foreseeable future.

Engie was already stepping into his teleport across the room, looking drained and more dead inside than he had as a corpse on the field. Josef would be getting no help from him.

Soldier had that glassy-eyed look that meant he was about to go get hammered until he passed out, which wasn’t something Josef wanted to get in the way of.

And Demo...the thought of going anywhere near Axe made him feel sick.

Pyro was struggling to shove their things in their locker along with the stuffed Unicorn Spy had nearly thrown away a few weeks ago. Scout had convinced him to let Pyro keep it on the grounds that it stay out of sight, which the arsonist had pitifully agreed to.

Wait-

_Scout._

Josef blinked, then searched the room for the runner, spotting the youngest merc on a nearby bench untying his running shoes. It was busy enough in the room, people going about their business, maybe he could do this with as few people noticing as possible. He steeled his nerves, and walked up to tap Scout on the shoulder.

Scout jumped nearly a foot in the air, clean of the bench to his feet and whipping around to look at Medic, face an awkward conglomeration of guilty, embarrassed, annoyed, and afraid. “What the- don’t sneak up on me, man! The fucks your problem?!”

There was no real bite to the words, and Scout's gaze wouldn’t meet his eyes. Josef could tell his reaction stemmed far more from his fear about what his other teammates thought of him than from his actual feelings about the medic in front of him.

Josef could tell clear as day that what the kid had seen last night hadn’t left his head for a second. It was written all over his face, he was still seeing the image of the medic's bloody form limping down the hallway.

Josef took some strange comfort in that. In knowing that what happened to him was real, and was just as horrible to others as it had been to him.

There were eyes on them now, Scout had made too much of a fuss to go unnoticed, but it was too late to back out now. He just lowered his voice, and hoped Scout would get the message to be quiet. “I’m sorry Scout, believe me, I just require your assistance with something-“

Scout cut him off, but his voice lacked confidence, “I- I don't- just leave me alone man, Jesus.”

Medic didn’t dare press it more than that, he was already testing his luck just by talking to him. He just ducked his head, and shrank back to his screen, hoping no one would tell Heavy he'd been bothering Scout. 

He tried to find the settings for what items he spawned it with, but he wasn’t even sure he was on the right page. He could be assigning it to leave off his left pinky toe for all he knew, but after the disaster today’s match had been he knew he’d need to figure it out.

People filed out past him, and he shrank closer to his cubical, hoping he could just disappear instead of have his whole team watch him struggle to even read. He relaxed when he heard the whirr of the teleporter at the back of the room slow, signaling it was no longer being used. Assuming everyone had left, and let his head thunk forward to rest on the glass and cursed aloud to himself.

“Uh, Hey.”

He jumped, straightening immediately and looking over his shoulder, heart hammering.

Scout stood behind him, fiddling with the dog tags around his neck and worrying a hand through his hair. He still wouldn’t look Josef in the eyes, but he jerked his head at the screen. “You’re doing it wrong. Just... tell me what you need already, I donno.”

Josef got over his shock as fast as possible, knowing this strange out-of-the-blue offer was probably his only chance, but staying on high alert in case this was some kind of sick prank. “M-my glasses, they broke-”

“Yeah yeah, alright lemme do it.” Scout stepped forward nervously, avoiding Josef but going up to the screen, gnawing on his lip. “ I’m guessing you didn’t want to remove your saw from the daily loadout.”

Josef laughed, more out of confusion with why Scout was here than anything else. “Oh, uh, no, I- I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Right.” Scout spent a few minutes undoing whatever Josef had managed to screw, then setting it to spawn in an old scan of his glasses.

The runner tossed the cubical open and grabbed the freshly spawned glasses off the floor, shoving them against Medics chest gingerly. “Here.”

Josef grabbed them before they could fall, staring after the runner. Scout was already walking towards the teleports, so Medic whispered after him. “Thank you, Scout.”

Scout's shoulders tensed, and he didn’t look back. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. I- I don’t want anything to do with you, okay?”

Josef just nodded at the back of his head. “Yes. I understand.”

And he did, it made sense. He couldn't imagine any of them would want to be associated with him, seeing how the majority of the team treated him.

The teleporter whirred, whisking Scout away and Josef’s world slid into focus as he put on his glasses, staring at the spot the runner had just been.

What the hell had that been? He thought back to the last time he’d seen Scout, when the medic had been beaten and nearly unconscious trying to reach the safety of his lab, and how horrified the kid had looked upon seeing him in that state. The memory was honestly kind of blurry for Josef, but obviously the scene had affected Scout somehow.

Or he just felt guilty, there really wasn’t any way for Medic to know.

After a quick check to make sure nothing with his respawn had been tampered with while scout had had access to it, just in case, he approached the teleporter and carefully stepped aboard.

He kept his eyes open this time, even though it made him feel sick, and kept his arms up and folded across his chest so they wouldn’t be pinned to his side if someone grabbed him by the waist.

He stepped off the teleporter, ready to fight, into the midst someone else's argument, and luckily was able to backpedal fast enough to avoid stepping right in the middle of it.

Scout and Spy were screaming at each other in the middle of the hallway, which really wasn’t that rare of a sight. They never got along, and constantly got on each other’s nerves. Scout was usually the one getting on Spy's bad side, but surprisingly something about Veil’s stance made it appear _he_ was on the defensive this time.

Scout was pent up, probably afraid he'd been caught helping Medic more than upset with whatever the actual fight was about. “What the fuck you makes you think that’s funny, asshole?”

Spy rolled his eyes, visually trying to keep his temper. “Oh shut your mouth Pitch, as if _you’re_ one to talk! How many times have I had to deal with you’re ridiculous jokes, honestly-“

Medic watched from against the wall as far from the drama as possible, pressing himself away and out of the danger zone. The word still caught him by surprise. He hadn’t heard that name in a while, the team only called Scout “Pitch” when they were trying to be nice to him, which wasn’t often. Whatever the two were arguing about, Spy was trying to deescalate it.

The two continued, but the Josef had heard enough to know this conversation wasn’t about him, and that’s all he needed to know.

He slipped past the two, spotting Demo lurking in the corner and glaring at the fight. He swallowed and sped down the hallway, only able to think of one reason why those to mercenaries would be waiting there.

He had no idea if Scout had just inadvertently saved him from getting kidnapped again, and he wasn’t too keen to stick around and find out. It wasn’t like they would try and go after the runner, Heavy had no vendetta against Scout as far as Josef was aware, besides the kid would be furious if the Medic tried to involve himself in any way.

And he had no intention of speaking to Veil.

He hurried to his lab, locking the doors and pressing himself back against it, grateful for this small safety. He knew it could be broken, but in here he didn’t have to watch his back. This was his space, this was where he worked and experimented and cared for his birds. This was where he could breathe.

He made his way to his desk to sit, allowing a small smile as he wondered how he was going to slip out unnoticed at five o'clock on Saturday.

Earlier that day, the RED Spy ran out onto the field the second the gate opened for the third match that day, whipping out his disguise kit and perusing his options. There was no point in disguising as a member of the BLU team this early, he was on the entirely wrong side of the field. He couldn’t be more obvious.

He chose his own team's Sniper and felt the disguise ripple over him. This way, if the team spotted him from across the field they’d think it was just the Australian finding his nest, not Spy attempting to infiltrate their forces. He did this every once in a while, it helped to throw them off to his position if he used it right and sparingly.

He glanced down at his legs as he ran, long used to seeing a pair other than his own running under him. The sight of Sniper's familiar garb however, still made him feel guilty.

What the hell was going on with his ex-best friend? What could possibly have happened to drive him to the bar that night, and why had he been so anxious this morning? Spy had eavesdropped on the marksman’s conversation with Demo that morning, and it seemed hadn't made him feel any better about it. He was a _s_ _py_ for gods sake, uncovering secretes should be easy for him.

But then again, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. He’d told himself that Sniper's business was his own, and that he didn’t want to know about it anymore.

But Spy was a liar. 

When had Sniper started keeping secretes from him again anyway? The notion didn't surprise him of course. It just... saddened him.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, getting his head in the game when he heard footsteps. Spy prepared himself to disappear into the shadows, but he judged the direction wrong. It was too late, the BLU Medic was halfway down the staircase and had already seen him. He sprinted for the left exit and reached for his gun, but the Medic was...

....smiling at him?

The little BLU Doctor (far shorter than RED team's), against all odds, was giving him the smallest of smiles. He even added a tiny wave with the two fingers he could spare while still holding up his medigun.

Completely shocked, Spy simply made eye contact and sped past with a stupid look on his face, continuing to run until he found a stack of boxes to hide behind and catch his breath.

and think about _what the hell had just happened?_

Had the Medic known he was a Spy? He supposed it wasn't impossible, just highly unlikely.

Spy glanced down at his hands to make sure his disguise hadn’t malfunctioned. No, he still had the look of the bushman. The back of his mind registered the marksman still only had one fingerless glove.

That's right, he’d promised to fix it but had been too mad at the man to give it back. He’d totally forgotten about it.

He shook himself, getting back to the problem at hand; the medic.

But what the hell had he been trying to do? Was he taunting him? It hadn't seemed mean spirited. Spy had been seen for barely a few seconds, how could the man possible have known he was a spy? And even if he had, why had he _waved_? To throw him off? As support class, Spy knew the value of throwing in a good distraction to flee the scene of a fight you couldn't win, but that had just...been so _genuine_. Maybe the man was just tired of being an asshole like all the other BLUs.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember if the Medic had ever been as much a ass as his teammates. The rest of that team he couldn't stand but the medic hadn't ever gone out of his way to be horrendous. 

But that was just... far too friendly.

Brow furrowed, Spy pushed off the wall and made his way back toward the center point.

He had much to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spy POV, what is this madness???
> 
> Fun fact, what Spy does at the end there is actually possible in game. You CAN disguise as your own teammates. As someone who can't play as Spy to save my life, I thought that was kinda cool. (or maybe that's a well known fact and I'm just bad at spy)


	26. Two Is Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? Did somebody order fluff? I've got a steaming chapter of fluff, straight out of the oven.
> 
> Location: Somewhere in New Mexico.  
> Song: Along the Way by The Hunts

The sniper sat, knees akimbo in the drivers seat of his van, staring into the pull-down mirror and smoothing out his eyebrows for the second time that evening.

He'd never really thought about his eyebrows before. They did a mighty fine job of just sitting there, and hadn't ever done anything particularly unsightly - to his knowledge at least. Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely sure what eyebrows were _supposed_ to do. Were they merely decorative?

Did people even look at eyebrows? More importantly, did _Josef_ look at eyebrows? Were they supposed to be slicked down, or was that a lady thing? It looked a bit weird when he did it like that so he ruffled them up again, trying to make it look unintentional.

He met his own gaze in the mirror, and frowned. His aviators were on the dashboard, leaving his mismatched eyes unveiled for all the world to see. He was leaving them off for tonight, and it somehow felt like a big deal. He knew he was being ridiculous, the whole messing with his eyebrows thing had started because he was too nervous to think about his own eyeballs.

He blew out a loud puff of air and slumped back in his chair, smacking the mirror up to cut off the view of his own face.

Josef already knew what his face looked like. Nothing Mick did to it now was going to change that. He'd already put on his best shirt and pants (which were just the _cleanest_ pair of all his shirts and pants), that was going to have to be good enough. Hopefully Josef’s expectations weren't too much higher then the Mick he met on a daily basis, because that was pretty much what he was getting. Just unarmed, a little cleaner, and less bloody.

And no glasses, Mick told himself, nodding to nobody and tucking them away in the glovebox.

No sunglasses.

Mick glanced at his watch and cursed. It was already four-fifteen, he had to leave soon if he wanted to make it to the bar in town by five. he was nervous enough about messing up tonight, the least he could do was get there on time.

Which meant it was time for the worst part of the night: alerting his entire team that he was doing something super suspicious that he desperately didn't want any of them to know anything about. Great.

He grit his teeth and started up the camper van.

She wasn’t quiet about it, they'd been through a lot together and she was one to complain about her aches and pains. The problem was Sniper _never_ moved the van if he could help it. He would rather ask someone else for a ride, which said a lot coming from the guy who’d rather drive himself to the ER with a hatchet sticking out of his head than have someone go out of their way to take him.

Essentially, by taking the van, he was telling the whole team that he was going somewhere he didn’t want them to find out about. Given how his last outing off-base had gone, they probably wouldn't exactly be giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Whatever, he could deal with the fallout later, he just prayed Spy wouldn’t have enough time to follow him. Best case scenario he’d be well on his way before the Frenchman even noticed he was gone. Worst case, Spy had just heard him turn the van on and was already headed out to his car.

Sniper pulled out of the driveway, peaking in his rearview to see if anyone was leaving the base after him. He didn’t see anyone, and he chided himself for being paranoid. This wasn’t a damn car chase, the chances of Spy actually trying to _follow_ him were low. The Spy wasn't a nutcase, he was just...overly worried. Therefore, the chances of him being suspicious of Mick were still quite high.

Mick sighed, pushing all thought of the Frenchman to the back of his head, letting those thoughts wait for the end of the night. He could think of a cover story on his way home, or he could just say nothing. He didn't owe a confirmation to anyone.

Well. Maybe he owed it to Spy. 

With a more angsty huff, he pulled out onto the lonesome highway.

Mick had never been a nervous driver. He liked the sight of the road going by, it made him feel safe. It reminded him of countless hours spent, just him and the road, slowly feeling his thoughts drain from his ears and becoming more asteroid than human. Just mindlessly following the gravitational pull of his next destination, usually a job or target. There were clear rules on the road, very little guesswork. No interactions, no one shooting at him. Usually. 

But today, he couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing up and down. It was jangling into the keys when it bounced, so he fumbled the radio on to that country station Soldier always listened to, blocking it out and giving his brain something to focus on.

He’d never been this anxious meeting someone before, which was big coming from him. To be fair, he’d never exactly done anything like this before. As sad as it was to admit, this was his first date.

Wait, no no, not a _date_ , he reminded himself. It was very important that this remained a _planned accident_. A very convenient coincidence.

How was Josef expecting this to go? Mick hated not knowing what to do, hated when the syllabus wasn’t written out for him. He knew what was expected of him at work, and he wasn’t ashamed of himself there. Sure, maybe he was a little dusty and bloody and probably didn’t smell too great, but that was part of the job. And he knew he was good at his job.

But this... wasn't his area. He didn’t go _out_. The last time he’d been too drunk to question how he was supposed to act, but now? He wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be if he wasn’t being The Sniper.

The good thing about taking what is essentially your house with you when you drive is that you can have a wardrobe crisis halfway through your trip. Sniper pulled off the side of the road before he even got to town and dug around until he found a shirt that wasn’t red. It was a tan button up that had seen better days, but it was _normal_. This wasn’t the RED Sniper's shirt, it was _Mick’s_. No insignia, no team color. Just a regular old shirt he'd had for ages, probably worn it to dinner at his parent's house.

If he thought that was going to make him feel like less of a nervous wreck, he was dead wrong.

He drove into the dreary old town practically vibrating in his seat, and before he knew it the bar loomed up in front of him and he was facing the small difficulty of finding a parking spot large enough for his campervan.

Once the vehicle stilled and he turned off the ignition, Mick sat staring at the brick wall outside his windshield, gripping the steering wheel and feeling like a teen on their first successful jaunt out of the house after curfew.

Step one, sneak out of the house, complete. Now to find Josef.

He peered to the left and right, nearly bursting out in nervous laughter when the first image that came to his head was Josef rolling up in an ambulance. He had to remember that the person he was meeting tonight wasn’t just a job description either. Medic was bound to have a very normal car, just like everyone else.

Well, everyone but sniper of course.

Mick groaned and leaned his head on the steering wheel, feeling loud and obvious in his van. If Spy had decided to follow him it wasn’t like he was hard to find. As much as he loved it, the camper was like a massive neon sign with **_Sniper was here_** in bold lettering. Once he found Josef they should stay away from it for tonight, make sure the Spy didn’t do any, well, spying.

Slumped forward like he was, he had a straight shot view into the windows of the cars to his left, and he could see the outline of a figure several cars down from him, down at the very end of the lot.

He heart jumped, could it be Josef? The stature was certainly short enough to be him, and the posture was poised and straight. Mick glanced away to look at his watch, barely taking long enough to register it was 4:55 before looking back to the figure like they’d disappear if not under his gaze.

They were looking out the window in the opposite direction, so he couldn’t try and wave. He’d have to go check.

Trying not to be weird about it, he hopped out of his van and slunk through cars towards the one at the end of the lot, trying not to look like he was approaching directly in case it _wasn’t_ Josef, but also trying not to look like he was sneaking up on the vehicle.

He peaked around the second to last car, and the second he saw the figure clearly he knew it was him. The man was facing away from him, wearing a light salmon collared shirt, not a hint of blue in sight, but Mick could tell by the shape of his shoulders -the outlines of hard muscles from long days out on the field- that this was the man he was looking for.

He didn’t think twice about opening the door to the passenger side and just hopping right in next to him.

Josef flailed around in shock and screamed. “AAAHHH!!!!”

Mick raised his hands to protect his face from stray limbs, “WOAH!”

“Heilige Scheiße!! Mick!? What- when did you-" shock turning to amused annoyance, Josef thwapped his knee with a hand. "Why the hell do you keep _doing_ that!?! What are you, a ghost?!”

Mick went on the defensive, but could tell he wasn't actually in trouble. “I’m sorry!!”

“My heart can withstand 235 volts of pure uber charge and you are _still_ going somehow manage to give it a heart attack!!” Josef’s voice, though high pitched and sounding thoroughly shocked, just couldn't be as angry as he was trying to make it sound.

Mick couldn’t help but smile apologetically. “I’m sorry mate! I swear I didn't mean to spook ya!”

Josef's nostrils flared, but Mick could see the smile he was now hiding too. "Didn't mean to- what did you _think_ was going to happen!?"

"I didn't think!"

The doctor shook his head and raised his eyes to the sky. “You’re going to kill me one of these days.”

Mick shrugged, “I kill ya everyday.”

Josef laughed, finally letting himself relax back against his headrest to recover from his scare. He glanced over from the drivers seat and smiled at Mick, and Mick smiled back dumbly before remembering the whole reason he got in the car.

“Oh, yeah, so uh, bit weird but we might wanna give it a minute 'fore we go inside. Make sure I wasn’t followed.”

Josef nodded like he’d expected that, which made Mick feel like the man was somehow more prepared than he was. “Ah, yes. Well, I see no reason we can stay in here," He gestured to the innards of his car, before glancing at Micks cramped position in the passenger seat. "As long as you are comfortable, feel free to move the seat back.”

Micks knees were jammed up against the glovebox, so he chuckled in thanks and slid back to accommodate his long legs. Josef had to turn in his chair to see him, and both blushed slightly in the quiet.

“So... how’s your Saturday been?”

It was subtle, but the look on his face definitely changed. The way Josef’s mouth tightened at the edges told Mick the day hadn’t exactly been pleasant, and the sudden stiffening of his shoulders didn’t go unseen. Despite the innocent question, Josef obviously didn't like the topic, or at least didn't want to talk about it.

“O-oh, it was fine, thank you. Not particularly exciting, at least I had evening plans to look forward to.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you do?” Mick asked, making his voice sound light but feeling the tingling's of concern.

Josef stared at him for a few seconds, eyebrows raised, and Mick blushed in realization that they were currently _doing_ what Josef had planned for the evening. “Oh! Oh yeah, uh...heh.”

Josef snorted and his smile became more genuine. Mick was glad to see him relax again, though that feeling of something being wrong still gnawed at him.

The doctor's smile was so _real_ though. “You, Mick, are a strange man.”

“Surprised it took ya this long to notice.”

“I had a sneaking suspicion.”

Mick chuckled at that, hoping the feeling in his gut was just his nerves making him be over-anxious. “Good to know you got some sense in that fine head of yours.”

“Ah, is that so. Are you sure? My sense seems questionable at best, I mean just look at the strange man I’ve allowed inside my vehicle.”

Mick made a face at him, “Aw shut up ya wallaby,” he said as he reached over, breaking the wall of no-contact that the atmosphere of the car had somehow created and ruffling Josef’s hair.

The medic squawked and flapped a hand half heartedly at him. “Hey hey, I just did my hair!”

Mick grinned, “Did what, give it a good shake?”

Joseph gasped in mock offense, batting lightly at Mick's arm while the bushman laughed.

“Alright alright, I was just kiddin! I like ya hair mate, it’s nice.”

Josef blinked, suddenly taken aback, hand coming to a rest on Micks arm. “You, do you really think so?”

Mick swallowed nervously. This was the kinda stuff people said on... outings like this, right? He hadn’t really thought about it when he'd said it, the words just sort of came out. And he _did_ like Josef’s hair. But when put on the spot, he wasn’t so confident about telling him so to his face. “I mean...yeah. Course I do. It’s...fluffy.”

Medic looked away and ducked his head, and Mick could see the tint of his blush in the fluorescent lighting from the signs outside the bar.

“Unmanageable is what it is,” Medic grumbled, fingers sliding off Micks arms to reach up and run through his own messy curls.

Mick was struck then with just how beautiful Josef was in that moment. Somehow, sitting here in a small dingy car in a bad town in front of a worse bar, lit by the glaring red and blue of the “OPEN” and "Budweiser" signs, Josef was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Curiously, slowly, he leaned forward, hand extended, and without a word he ran his fingers into the man's hair, replacing the smaller fingers there and tucking back the curls.

Josef's eyes flashed up, meeting his.

Mick gazed back at him, not feeling his usual need to break prolonged eye contact. "Look who found his glasses," he said softly.

Josef's eyes filled with... something he couldn't name. Something equally as sad as it was happy. 

"Oh. You... noticed."

"Course I did."

Mick move his fingers forward, pressing his thumb to the pressure point at Josef’s eyebrow and smoothing the tension from his forehead. Josef blinked at first at the sudden hand over his face, but relaxed into it almost immediately. He sighed, leaning into Mick's hand.

Mick chuckled softly, more a breath than a laugh really, and a content smile made its way into Josef’s face.

Something clenched in Sniper's stomach. A feeling filled him, flooding his stomach and chest and spreading through his veins. Josef looked so vulnerable -smiling softly, eyes closed, face in Mick's hand. There wasn't a doubt to be had about this trust between them.

This was getting dangerous. He really really _really_ cared about Josef. He’d never felt like this before, not about anyone.  
This wasn’t just messing around anymore, though really, when had it ever been? He was filled with the need to keep this person in front of him safe, to protect him, and he didn’t think he was going to be able to fight it much longer.

Every time he’d shot Josef in just this week alone replayed in his head and it made him feel sick. How was he supposed to kill him when he could hold him like this?

Josef’s bright blue eyes opened and looked at him questioningly, and Mick realized he had subconsciously placed his two first fingers on the center of the Medic's forehead.

Right were he always lined up a shot.

He smoothed his thumb over it, marveling at how it was still perfectly intact given how many times he’d shot a bullet through that very spot.

He swallowed roughly and continued gently smoothing through Josef's hair, trailing across the closer trimmed salt and pepper at his temples. The doctor squinted at him, but eventually let his eyes flutter closed again.

Mick coughed to clear his throat. “Got some greys comin' in. Think you worry too much.”

Josef’s smile came crawling back. “Mmm. Are you telling me you don’t have _any_ greys?”

“I don’t.”

“What?” One Josef’s eyes popped open. “No, how old are you? Let me see.”

Josef moved quick, snatched away Mick's hat and dropped it in his own lap, reaching up to hook Mick's head and bring it down towards him. The Sniper laughed as he was yanked down and Josef started carding through his hair.

"Oi, watch it then mate!"

The doctor ignored him. “Wow! You really don’t have any!”

“Yeah," He grumbled, "And I’m thirty-six. Christ you sound like you think I’m old.”

“Of course you're not old!”

Micks finger length hair was all the same, rich dark hazelnut brown. Josef’s eyes widened as he pawed at it. “My god, your hair is so soft! What on earth do you use?!”

Mick was bent leaning forward, arms resting on the center divider, with his eyes at Josef’s neck level. The doctor had no idea how much his jaw line was being appreciated at the moment.

“Bushman recipe.” He replied jokingly, eyes traveling to the hint of collarbone he could see beneath Josef's shirt.

Josef apparently thought he was serious. “Oh! Does it include sand?”

Mick frowned at that. “Sand?” Did he have dandruff or something? He didn’t think so, but-

“Ja, I think you smell like sand.”

Mick sat up to make questioning eye contact, but Medic pulled him back down to keep rummaging happily through his hair, either looking for greys or simply enjoying mussing it up.

“The fuck does _sand_ smell like?”

Josef hummed softly. “Well, like the sun I suppose. Desert. Like the sky when it’s so bright you can’t even look at it. You, my freind, smell like a sunny day.”

Mick blushed, glad Josef couldn’t see it with the angle his face was at. The language was a little flowery for him, but he secretly sort of liked it. “Oh. In.. like in a good way?”

He felt Josef press a kiss against his hair on the crown of his head. “A very good way.”

Mick smiled, and leaned forward to give Josef’s neck a light kiss. “Mmm, I think you smell like rain.” He whispered against his skin.

Josef made a noise that could only be described as a giggle. “Rain has even less a smell than sand!”

“No no, like a pine forest right after it rains. When everything’s... clean,” Mick hummed against the medics previously admired jawline. He'd tried for the same flowery language, but had the feeling it fell a little flat. _Clean?_ Really? _That’s_ the best adjective he could come up with? To be fair, Josef _did_ smell a little like disinfectant, so he supposed clean really was the best word for it.

He decided not to dwell on it, and instead let himself get distracted with kissing Josef’s neck.

Josef was apparently distracted by that as well, if the fingers curling tight in his hair was anything to go by. The medic also starting making soft little sighing noises that Mick enjoyed a little more than he expected.

Mick wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he rested one on the dashboard next to the wheel and the other on Josef’s seat so he could support himself at an odd hunched over angle to reach Josef’s neck. Damn his lengthy torso.

His lips trailed down Josef's throat, and he could feel the harsh swallow and shiver his attention inspired. He'd just made it to the base of his throat when Mick felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Uh, Sniper?” Josef whispered, sounding a little out of breath.

Mick looked up at him. “Yeah?”

The doctors face was bright, and he had to clear his throat twice to speak. “As much as I am -ahem- _enjoying_ this, we are, uh, in a small car in a small bar parking lot, and you have so far managed to turn on the windshield wipers and the brights. Not to mention the doctor.”

He glanced over to see his hand had slid across the dash and the car's wipers were now swiping drying across the glass.

“Oh. Right.” Mick drew away and shut off everything he'd accidentally triggered, only processing the last part of Josef's comment when he sat back in his own seat, blushing as he tried to make himself look less ruffled.

Josef smiled cheekily at him, but ducked his head as soon as Mick looked back. He was very red, and Mick couldn’t help but think it was cute.

The doctor cleared mumbled something to himself in German and popped his car mirror down, fixing his hair and subtly checking his neck for marks. Mick looked away, heart thumping as the thought of leaving marks entered his head, hardly able to believe he'd just done that to another dude.

"Do you think we've waited for enough time?" Josef asked, not looking at him.

Mick stole back his hat from Josef's lap and secured it back on his head, thumbing at the rim. They hadn't exactly done a great job at keeping watch, but he felt like they might as well go inside at this point. "Yeah, I think so, I'm sure we're fine."

"Lets go inside then?"

"Yeah."

They each turned away and got out of the car at the same time, meeting in the front with a smile and walking towards the entrance together. It sounded busy inside, and for once Mick was glad about that fact. Getting lost in the crowd was a good thing in this case.

Beside him Josef ambled along easily, hands in the pockets of his jeans, taking two steps for Mick’s every one. He seemed shorter than usual, and Mick realized that he lost an inch or two without the thick soles of his work boots. It was weird seeing him in civilian clothes, he looked so... normal. 

Except he was hot.

Mick was almost startled by the thought in his own head. He didn’t usually think of people as _hot_ , the concept had always seemed a little odd to him, but Josef was undeniably attractive. Mick felt a little self conscious in his overly casual garb. 

“I, uh, like your... you look nice,” he mumbled awkwardly. 

Josef looked up at him. “Hm?”

Mortified at having to say it again, Mick stared down his walking partner. “I... I said ya look nice.”

“Oh! Thank you.” Josef’s smile held something other than gratefulness, almost as if he was trying desperately to hold in a laugh. “You look fine too Mick, though must say I find your monotone color scheme... intriguing.”

“Huh?” Confused, Mick glanced down and stopped short when he realized what Josef meant.

Brown work pants, brown button up, brown hat and brown boots. He was wearing all the same, dull, dusty brown. He looked like running champion of the dusty shit look-alike contest.

Fuck. He'd showed up dressed as a fucking piece of plywood with legs.

Josef face was struggling to contain his entertainment. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t on purpose?!”

Mick glared at him, embarrassment heightening his voice. “Why would I do that on purpose, Jo?!”

“I don’t know! I thought it was some kind of look you were going for?!”

He groaned and sagged forward, and his companion laughed lightly and placed a hand on his arm to lead him towards the door.

“I assumed you wore it as camouflage," He said, amusement clear in his words. Mick could tell he was being teased.

“Why would I need bloody camouflage mate?”

He got a light elbow in the ribs. “From the scary people at the bar of course!”

“Oh shut it, wouldja.”

Josef grinned and made a face at him, reaching the door to the bar and pushing it open so both mercenaries could walk through. 

Mick stuck his tongue out back at him, and they made increasingly worse faces at each other as they stepped into the building together.

It took a second for the two to realize that, as they had entered, all the chatter around them had slowly died as every head in the bar turned to them. 

Mick felt his stomach drop, meeting the frozen stares with his own wide, uncovered eyes.

shit.

Luckily, Josef’s brain work a bit faster than his and had a functioning flight response. He grabbed Mick by the back of his belt and tugged him back outside, slamming the door of the bar tight behind them. 

There were a few seconds of heavy silence as they stared at each other in horrified shock before Josef released a prolonged snort and they both broke down into hysterical laughter.

“Shhh!” Mick weakly insisted as Josef collapsed against the door and dissolved into giggles, despite the fact that he himself was laughing his ass off just as loudly. 

“I can’t shush,” the medic wheezed, wiping his eyes, “Did you see their faces!?”

Mick dragged his hands down his own face, not bothering to pretend he wasn't grinning behind it. “Yeah I _may_ not have thought about the fact that the last time we were here-”

“You sang karaoke and made out with me in the middle of the room?” Josef squeaked.

“-and then bloody _attacked_ a bloke, yeah! Wait, I _sang what_ -?”

Mick tried to keep himself quiet, but Josef was practically howling now and it just made him laugh harder. 

“I-I don’t think we’re going to be very inconspicuous if we stay here.” Josef managed, and Mick nodded, grabbing his hand and dragging him back to the car as the medic stumbled after him. 

They climbed back in the car, flushed and out of breath, glanced at each other and laughed some more. 

“This is a small town, I guess news travels fast.” Mick said. He felt like he should be more embarrassed, but he just couldn't with Josef here with him.

“Oh yes. And the Saturday crowd is essentially the same crowd each week, I’m afraid, most of them witnessed it themselves.”

“Well so much for that plan." Mick's heart dropped a little, he hoped that didn't mean their dat- _outing_ was over.

Josef held up his car keys and shrugged, obviously not too disappointed. “Is there somewhere you would like to go instead?”

Mick chewed his lip. It had just been a simple fantasy in his head before, but now that their plans were changing anyway and Josef seemed open to options... he did have an idea. “Actually, I have a suggestion?”

Josef clapped his hands once, thrilled. “Yes!”

“I... haven’t told you the suggestion yet.”

Josef was already starting the car. “Ah, I trust you’re judgement.”

“Oh, well, I was thinking that, maybe since it’s such a clear night tonight...”

Ah fuck. Of _course_ it would be a clear night, it was the bloody _desert_. The nights were always clear here, and it wasn’t even night time it was the evening, so it sounded like he was insinuating something. Mick tried to think, but couldn’t help feeling like he was saying the wrong thing again. What if Josef didn't like his suggestion?

He shook his head and tried again. “What I mean is, well it sounds stupid when you say it out loud, but I was gonna suggest we just, and you don't have to say yes-"

"-Sniper."

"Huh?"

Josef was smiling at him. "Just tell me."

Mick stared down at his hands, fumbling with a loose button on his shirt. "I was thinkin' we drive out the middle of nowhere and just... sit...together?” 

He glanced back up from under his hat to find a grinning, starry-eyed German throwing his car into gear. “Wunderbar!”

He flailed for his seatbelt as Medic peeled out of the parking lot. "Woah-wait, really?"

"Of course! I never get the chance to stargaze, and with such company? That sounds better to me than the crowed bar, no?"

Mick settled into his seat as Josef pulled onto the road out of town, away from the bar, the bases, the battlefields and everything else.

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."

The sparse cars on the highway were far enough away that Mick couldn’t hear them anymore. He would have been able to see their headlights pass by in the far distance every once in a while if he'd looked, but he and Josef were sitting in the sand, backs against the car, facing away from the highway sharing a blanket the medic had pulled out of his trunk.

They’d just picked a spot and swerved off the road, four wheeling it off the highway and into the desert until there was only a glimmer of lights in the distance. It felt illegal and stupid and hilarious and _perfect_.

Josef as his arms around his knees, tucked in a tight ball next to Mick and so close they were almost touching, head thrown back to look up at the sky.

They'd made it here just as the sun slipped down, and the stars were starting to come out. But Mick wasn't looking at the stars.

He could barley take his eyes off of Josef.

There were stars reflected in his glasses as he marveled at the sky. “Oh, I love clear nights! I know they are always clear out here, but you forget to look up don’t you? You forget that you can just look up and... see the rest of the universe.”

Mick dragged his eyes off the silhouette of the doctor long enough to glance up too. “Yeah. Reminds me of some of the nights I spent in the outback. Away from city lights, when you can see it all like this? Nothing like it.”

Josef scooched a little bit closer, and Mick ached to close what was left of the distance separating him from the man. He tapped his fingers on the ground between them nervously.

Josef didn't seem to notice his fidgeting, eyes still turned upward. “Do you know any constellations?”

Mick let his head thunk back to rest on the car. “Yeah, I know a few. Just, not really in this hemisphere.”

Josef’s laugh rang into the open dessert air, completely unrestrained, and Mick felt his heart start squat-kicking.

“Oh! Yes, I forgot about that!" He said, apparently enjoying the thought. "Australia, yes of course. Your seasons are flipped as well, yes?”

“That’s right.”

Josef shook his head, smiling. “Ah. Christmas in the summer, huh?”

Mick nodded passively. “Yep. It took me a bit to get used to cold Christmas in the states. Folks act like they can’t have a proper Christmas unless it’s snowin'. I never really got that, I mean I've had a fair share of great Christmases, and ain't none of 'em were cold.”

Josef grinned and shook his head. “Oh, no, I can’t imagine my Christmases without snow! It is always freezing in Germany during the holidays, I love it." He tucked the blanket around him as if just talking about it had made the air around them colder.

Finally, Josef's eyes met his. He couldn't think of a thing to say, not with those eyes on him.

"Hey Sniper?”

Mick swallowed. “Yeah?”

“What was the hardest thing for you to get used to, coming to America?”

Mick squinted in thought and folded his hands behind his head, trying to act natural and not like he was currently a skin balloon filled of butterflies. “Hm, I donno. The money's a bit weird, and the portion sizes. And I'm too not fond of the accident to be honest." He looked up again, and grunted. "The night sky too I s'pose. This isn’t my sky.”

He felt Josef's elbow brush past his ribs as he shifted closer.

“It’s my sky. Do want me to teach you what I know?”

Mick raised an eyebrow at him. “You know constellations.”

Josef tilted his head in admission. “Well. A couple.”

Mick nodded a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah mate, fire away.”

Josef grinned, thrilled at Mick's energy instead of put off by it. “Ah good, let’s see! I know the... oh, ein Großer Wagen, the um... uhhh, oh yes, the American's call it the Big Dipper!”

Mick raised an eyebrow, pretty sure he'd seen that one before in Northern Australia. “Okay...?”

Josef took the hesitancy in Mick's voice as disbelief, and gave his arm a little shove. “It's a real constellation! I know it sounds silly, but it's real. Just look.”

He pointed at the sky. “See just there? That is the Big Dipper. It’s shaped like a... a... schesse, I forgot the English word.” His brow furrowed and he grumbled as he shuffled through his mental vocabulary for the word. “A... kelle. Ein Schöpflöffel.”

Mick, who had been entranced by the adorable view of Josef's concentration face, snorted at the last word.

“Ha! The hell'd you say, and chopwaffle?”

Josef glared at him, the edges of his mouth tilting up. “Ein Schöpflöffel!”

Mick shook his head, laughing. “What the fuck? Shopfloofle?”

“Schöpflöffel!”

“Shlopfluflu?”

Josef snorted hand coming up to land on Mick's shoulder. “Nein! Listen! _Shcöp_.”

Mick looked at him and nodded, trying his best to get the pronunciation. “Schop.”

“Ja. _Flöffel_.”

“Fluffer. Schopfluffer?”

Josef winced, but still shrugged. “Eh, close enough.”

Mick grinned. “Alright. What’s it mean?”

“That’s what I’m trying to remember! It’s like a... giant... soup tool.”

Mick burst out laughing again. “A _what?!_ ”

Josef shoved him playfully. “Don’t laugh at me! Your laugh is very distracting and I’m finding it hard to concentrate! You forget that I am still learning this crazy language!”

Mick raised his eyebrows. "Well, its pretty cute to watch ya try."

Josef’s face fell into surprise, and even in the starlight Mick could tell he was blushing. His smile soon turned mischievous. “Süß? Wenn du so denkst, muss ich es öfter machen.”

Mick rolled his eyes. “Oh come off it, now I don’t know what your saying at all!”

Josef’s eyes sparked with more then just starlight. “Glaubst du, du kannst es erraten?”

Mick shook his head, grinning helplessly. “What?”

Suddenly, Josef swiveled toward him, flinging a leg over both of his and sitting in his lap. They were suddenly face to face, Medic's knees on either side of his thighs.

Mick's pupils shot wide, and Josef grinned at him and leaned in close, suddenly whispering. “Was wäre, wenn ich dir sagen würde, dass ich dich genauso bezaubernd finde?”

Both men could hear Mick swallow thickly, and Josef's eyes darted down to catch the movement. He chuckled. “You an incredibly easy man to fluster, Scharfschütze.”

Mick tried to speak, but only managed to squeak instead. Josef took that as an invitation to lean in and spread kisses down his throat.

“H-holy shit.” Mick breathed, hand coming up to rest on Josef's back.

Josef smiled against his skin and wrapped his arms around his neck, nuzzling against him.

Mick slid a hand into his dark hair, cupping at the back of his head, and Josef looked up. He opened his mouth to comment, but Mick leaned in and kissed him before he could speak. The doctor's response was immediate, pulling Mick impossibly closer and kissing him back deeply.

Each kiss they shared seemed unlike all before it. This one was lingering and purposeful and utterly unhurried, with no chance of being interrupted or ended before it's time. Mick made sure Josef felt every once of affection behind it, every ounce of admiration. He wanted the man in his arms to fully feel just how much his presence, his nearness, his _touch_ , was wanted.

Mick drew away sharply, resting his forehead against Josef's, to whisper. “I’ve been waiting to do that all night.”

Josef's fingers curled into the back of his shirt. “Why on earth were you waiting? Continue please, don’t stop on my account-“

But Mick was already pulling him back in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the Big Dipper in some parts of the Southern hemisphere, but Josef doesn't know that.
> 
> Also Josef, honey, its called a ladle


	27. Faults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I hope you had nice holidays if you were celebrating anything, and that you are happy and healthy <3 <3 <3
> 
> Location: The New Mexico desert, a Cadillac, and the RED base parking lot  
> Song: Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie
> 
> WARNING: I can't give specific warnings for some future chapters for the sake of spoilers, but if you are sensitive to certain content please proceed with caution. I don't want to cause anyone any stress because of this story, and it goes to some very dark places. Please take care of yourself, and don't continue reading if you think it may make you uncomfortable in any way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go check out this BEAUTIFUL piece by 221Charcoal for the last chapter!!! [**Two Is Enough**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28152927) (11 words) by [**221Charcoal**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/221Charcoal)  
>  I am STUNNED and HONORED to have such beautiful art made for my fic!!!
> 
> Also, in case you missed it, Alima_Kle has also made a fantastic piece of fanart for this fic! [**DaA-12**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939291) (0 words) by [**Alima_Kle**](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alima_Kle)  
>  THANK YOU DARLINGS!!!!
> 
> Also, I'm on tumbler at anonymous-astronaut, where I have my own art and other tidbits about this fic and others :>

  
“Jo.”

Mick gently nudged the medic nestled against his chest. He smiled when the man just shook his head and buried his face a little deeper against the crook of Mick’s neck. He tilted his head to look down at him. “Josef, dove, we should probably get going”

Mick got no response except small hands curling into the front of his shirt to keep him there. He chuckled. “I’m not gonna let you fall asleep on me mate, I don’t want ya drowsy on the road.”

They’d been in the same spot in the desert for hours, tucked under the blanket together, talking quietly and occasionally just enjoying each other’s touch and company in silence. Josef had never left his lap after landing there, and he kept leaning up to seek out kisses that Mick was more than willing to give. It was peaceful and dark, and it felt like the two of them and the blanket they shared could battle time itself. 

But the sun was still going to rise, and the illusion could only last so long. 

Josef curled closer to him as if he could hear Mick's thoughts about breaking their little bubble of comfort, and Sniper could feel the tension in his small frame at the mention of heading back. 

“I like it here. With you,” Josef whispered. It wasn't posed as an argument against heading back, it was simply a statement of truth. Something to be said here, just between them, before the rest of the world broke back in.

Mick stroked his hand down Josef’s back, turning to kiss the side of his head. “Me too dove, but I gotta get back. Can't stay out here all night.”

Worry about Spy following him had been eating at his insides, and even he hadn’t, the longer Mick waited the worse it was going to be when he got back to base. 

Josef sighed, and Mick felt the gust of it against his neck; the last breath of their peaceful connection. Then, in one fluid motion, he sat up and stood, offering his hands out to Mick. The Sniper could barely see the outline of his shape in the dark. 

Mick took the offered hands to be heaved up, leaning down to steal a kiss from Josef once standing. Mick missed his mouth slightly, making the kiss clumsy and sideways. The doctor laughed against his cheek and nuzzled him affectionately. 

“Thank you.”

Mick could hear the sincerity in Josef's voice, in spite of the lighthearted laugh. He raised an eyebrow that he knew the medic couldn’t make out in the dark. “What for?”

“For this. For tonight. It was perfect.”

Mick grinned and slid an arm around his shoulders, steering them around towards the front of the car. “I’ll admit it was one of my better ideas.”

“Better than truth or dare with shots?”

Mick frowned. “What?”

A knowing humor was clear in Josef’s voice. “Never mind.”

Mick ignored the squirming feeling that he'd missed something there and glanced down at the man under his arm. “You feeling more awake dove, or want me to drive?”

Josef, amused by this gesture, leaned playfully against him. “Oh I’m fine, thank you Mick.”

The sniper grunted and left Josef at the drivers side with a pat on the arm, walking around the front of the car to climb into his seat.

Josef slid in next to him, hitting the interior light above them as they settled in. He smiled easily at Mick as he took a moment to clean the fog from his glasses. 

Mick didn't smile back. He had paled as soon as he saw Josef’s face in the light.

“Woah woah, mate, wait a minute.”

Josef lost his smile too, hands freezing on his glasses as he saw Mick’s expression.“What, what is it?”

Mick's frown deepened the longer he looked at the large black bruise formed around Josef’s left eye. It was a garish mark, molted black and blue and edged with yellow. The eye didn't look as swollen as one would expect from such a mark, but there it was nonetheless. A dark bruised line showed where the rim of the doctor's glasses had been pushed roughly into the bridge of his nose, as well as a mark where the rim of his eye socket had received similar treatment.

Mick reached out and took Josef’s chin gently, tilting his face into the light above. “What... Josef what happened to ya?”

It had been getting dark when he’d met Josef at five this afternoon, but not dark enough that he wouldn’t have noticed _this_. It must have formed in the past few hours, after the sun went down, which meant that however Josef had managed to get this, it had been _right_ before he left to meet Mick. 

Josef’s eyes widened in realization and he quickly turned away, pulling his chin out of Micks loose fingers as he flipped down the mirror and turned to inspect his face himself. His fingers traced it as he cursed quietly to himself in German and snapped the mirror back up, avoiding Mick's stare and glaring down at the steering wheel in front of him.

Mick felt an all too familiar worm of worry crawl back into his stomach, the same one that had festered inside of him when he'd heard that mindless panic in Josef’s voice the other day.

“Josef?” He swallowed around the bubble in his throat. He didn’t know why, but this felt like a fragile question, like the whole subject was made of glass. Like this was something he was expected to shake off.

But he couldn’t, not this time.

“Jo, how’d you get that?”

It could have happened any number of ways, they were mercenaries after all. They were tough men, and he knew Josef had had worse than a black eye. But something about this felt off to him. Something about it felt dark and twisted and sick.

Josef shrugged, voice light and unbothered, but his eyes stayed firmly on the wheel in front of him, fingers digging into his pants at the knees. “Oh you know, bit of a tussle. Nothing serious.”

Mick gnawed the inside of his lip, trying to remember if the medic had mentioned butting heads with any of his teammates in particular recently. He wanted to know who he needed to target next match, marking a mental note to miss a few clean headshots and aim for some more painful places.

“Who have ya been... arguin' with this time, then?”

Josef shrugged again, head sinking into his shoulders protectively, voice a little more meek. “Well...all of them really?”

Micks eyes shot wide. “What- all of em'? You don’t get along with... _anyone_ on BLU?”

Josef just swallowed and made a vaguely dismissive expression, looking like he’d said too much. Which was bullshit, because he’d hardly said anything helpful at all. Mick’s brow darkened. “Jo, what exactly has been goin' on at your base?”

The words did something to the doctor, sent a strange shudder through him and put stiffness in his shoulders, tension in his fingers. Whatever it was, Mick didn't like it at all.

When Josef finally looked up at him, his gaze was hardened into a mask of indifference. He looked at Mick like he couldn't even see him, like he was practicing a speech in a mirror.

“Nothing is going on Mick, BLU is just a dysfunctional group. Thank you for your concern, but really, it was just a fight. I've certainly handled worse.”

It sounded perfectly genuine, and Mick's stomach squirmed with the strange realization that Josef might be a very good liar. If it weren't for his eyes, he might have believed it.

But something deep down told him not to.

He wanted to press the doctor about it now, ask about the panic and the fear he could sense in him like a wild animal, but he didn’t know how to ask Josef why he’d sounded so scared without straight up offending the man. He didn’t think Josef was a coward, and he didn’t want Josef to assume he did.

“Who hit ya then?”

Josef shook his head as he spoke, “It doesn’t matter.”

Mick didn't miss a beat with his response. “Matters to me.”

Josef blinked, surprised at that, and his ice blue eyes turned kind and soft, his mouth to a sad smile. He raised a hand to Micks cheek. “I know. But I don’t want any more trouble. _Especially_ not for you.”

Mick opened his mouth to argue, but Josef placed a finger over his mouth to quiet him. “Mick. Please?”

Sniper hated leaving this uneasiness unattended, but he also didn’t want to start a fight with Josef. Not now, not tonight. It was late, and they both needed to get back. And everything had been so perfect up until now. He sighed. “Yeah, alright. Just... you know you can talk to me, yeah?”

It was a lame attempt at expressing his need for Josef to be honest with him, but it was _something_.

Josef smiled at him from the side as he started up his car. “Alright.”

The drive back was quieter this time, and they could both feel unresolved air between them. Mick tried to keep his eyes off Josef’s black eye, but every time they passed under a streetlight his gaze would drift to the review mirror and study the bruising on the man’s handsome face. Medic met his eyes in the mirror once, and he looked away quickly.

They reached the bar a little past one AM. The lot was mostly empty save for the van, and Mick was glad to see no sign of Spy’s car lurking around.

Josef pulled in next to the camper and stopped his car, breathing out tiredly as they sat in silence for a bit.

Eventually, he turned his head and put his hand on Micks arm.

“Mick I....” he cut off his own voice, seeming to debate with himself for a second before settling on a topic. “Tonight was... wonderful.”

Mick glanced at him and couldn't help but smile a little. “Yeah, it was pretty nice.” 

His thumb smoothed over Micks forearm, and they both watched it pass back and forth over his skin. “Could we... do this again? Meet? Outside of work?”

At least part of Mick’s anxiety eased- he was thrilled to hear that, even after that awkward car ride, meeting up again was something Josef wanted to do. Seeing him, being close to him, was still something Josef wanted. “Yeah, course, I’d...I'd love to.”

Josef’s smile was genuine, and the bruise couldn't hide the happy excitement in his eyes at Mick's confirmation. “Good. Wunderbar. I will see you on Monday, yes?”

Mick nodded, “Yeah I spose, though somethin tells me I’ll spot you first.”

Josef laughed, and Mick marveled at how hearing a laugh he’d only known for a small amount of time could make him feel better with such immediacy. 

“Who knows," Josef mused, poking him in the ribs, "I know all your little hiding spots now Sniper, I’ve got a keen eye!”

Mick snorted, “You’ve got worse eyes than a warthog’s ol’ grandmother mate, if your glasses were any thinker they’d be bullet proof.”

Josef pushed at his side playfully, and Mick snuck a hand past to catch his chin. The doctor gazed up through his eyelashes at him, which would have been pretty cute if it wasn’t for the worry-inducing black and purple blotch on a quarter of his face. 

Mick leaned in before the concern could show in his expression and kissed Josef gently, savoring the feel of lips he’d grown more accustomed to over the coarse of the night. Josef relaxed into his touch instantly -a trust that made butterflies zip around in Mick's stomach like a teenager. 

Mick pulled away, observing Josef’s face post-kiss. The doctor kept his eyes closed, as if still experiencing it, and Mick liked how peaceful he seemed now. 

“You look after yourself for me, alright dove?”

Medics eyes blinked open to meet his, with a slightly questioning look. “Yes, alright.”

“Good.” Mick kissed the tip of his nose quick, spinning to climb bodily out of the car before he could be too embarrassed about it. He hopped into his van, and threw a final wave at Josef before turning onto the road back towards the RED base.

Mick’s heart missed a beat when he pulled up a saw that the shiny black Cadillac was missing from its usual spot at the base. 

He quickly realized the Spy’s car was conveniently parked in _his_ usual parking space instead, and annoyance overtook the place of dread.

Well, at least that meant he probably hadn't been followed.

He parked the van next to it and slunk out, peering in the tinted windows and wondering if he should rap his knuckles on the glass. Squinting, he could tell that Spy’s seat was reclined all the way back, and Sniper fancied the idea that the man might be asleep.

But he knew Spy better than that. 

Taking a deep breath, Mick opened the door without knocking and slid in the passenger seat. He didn’t look at the mercenary seated next to him.

Édith Piaf sang softly in the background over Spy’s radio. It’s was almost comforting to listen to her again, until the melancholy settled in. The only reason he even knew who Édith Piaf _was_ was because of Spy, and Mick wished he could pretend -just for a moment- that things were how they used to be. That Spy had invited him to come for a late night drive when neither of them could sleep, introducing him to music he’d never heard before as they drove, talking about anything and everything. Mick wished he trusted him enough to even consider telling him about Josef. 

But it just wasn’t like that anymore.

He closed his eyes, mentally preparing himself for the argument he knew was about to happen.

“Please tell me you didn’t sit out here and wait in the dark like some neurotic overbearing mother hen?”

Spy’s quip from the drivers side came as fast as ever, like it had been sitting on his tongue since Sniper had started his car earlier this evening. “Please, tell me _you_ didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night like some prepubescent hooligan.”

Mick crossed his arms. “Alright, I _didn’t_ sneak out in the middle of the night Spy, I took the keys to _my_ van and headed out like an adult before the sun even went down.”

That much was true, Spy didn’t really have anything substantial on him this time. Sniper hadn’t actually _done_ anything stupid (well, as far as spy was aware at least. His ex-friend would _definitely_ count making out with the enemy in the middle of the desert as at _least_ idiotic). But from the looks of things, Spy didn’t actually know that, and had no real evidence to go off of. Mick hadn’t even done anything particularly suspicious -the only reason it was weird at all was because he was, well, _himself_. If Demoman had done the exact same thing, no one would have batted an eye.

But as it was, Spy, unfortunately, had a rather larger reaction planned than batting his eyes.

“Are you sober?” 

Mick shifted uncomfortably. “I know you can tell I’m sober, Spy."

Spy snapped back like a whip lash. “Oh shut up, I don’t _know_ you anymore.”

The words hit Mick harder than he'd been prepared for. That _hurt_ , and there was real poison in Spy's voice. It wasn't true of course, Spy knew him better than almost anyone, but that didn't cushion the words at all. Just from that sentence alone he had half a mind to accept that Spy feelings towards him had shifted all the way to pure loathing. 

But if that was true, why would he bother to be out here right now? Why would Spy have waited for him?

Mick swallowed, and tried to keep his tone neutral. “Yeah, yeah I’m sober.”

“Where were you then.”

Mick hardened his resolve, well aware that he wasn’t the best lair but he had to try and sell this anyway. He’d thought about his cover story on the way over, and it seemed solid enough. 

“Hunting.”

It sort of made since, at the very least it was plausible. It explained why he’d gone alone, not wanting to drag anyone along hunting with him, and even the timing was just about right. He’d even gone hunting a few times before, but only in the small wooded area around the base. 

Which left the question of why he’d left in the first place, when he could have just gone hunting here, but hopefully Spy wouldn’t question that. 

He could feel the man’s eyes on him, and the effect was immediate; Spy was chiding him for being a bad lair without even speaking, which was hardly fair. 

Mick heard a cigarette being sparked, but didn’t look over as Spy spoke. “Why not just hunt here, like you always do?”

Mick huffed in irritation, knowing he’d been stupid to hope that Spy wouldn’t ask that. He was tired and nervous, and damn worried enough to be pushed over the edge by the interrogation a little faster than he normally would have. “I donno Spy, I was bored? Tired of the scenery? It’s too damn loud around here anyway, scares all the deer away.” 

Édith sang to them softly, her soothing voice at odds with the mood in the car, and Mick desperately wanted to turn up the radio and drown out the suffocating silence radiating from Spy.

He might even have reached over, but Spy didn’t give him the chance. 

“Fine.”

Sharply, the Frenchman sat his seat up, turned the key in the ignition, and pulled his car into gear, skidding into his usual parking space and exiting the Cadillac before sniper could even take a proper breath.

Once he had his bearings again Mick climbed out after him and trotted to catch up, shoving his hands in his pockets as Spy kept a brisk pace towards the base. 

Mick could have just kept quiet. That was the smart thing to do, and definitely the easiest thing to do. 

But he was getting tired of this. Of being chided. Of being judged. Tired of everything. 

“Spy, what is this?” 

The Frenchman stopped sharp, and Mick almost walked into him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Why are you doing this." Mick said through gritted teeth, "I thought you said you were done.”

Spy didn’t turn to look at him, but his shoulders went stiff. “Done with _what_ exactly?”

“Done, Spy! With me, that's what you said you wanted! So why hang around huh? You told me you didn’t care anymore, so why pretend you give a shit? If you’re not supposed to care anymore, then what’s it to you if I-“ 

He expected Spy to get mad sure, but what he _didn’t_ expect was for Spy to whirl around and backhand him across the face like a dramatic Victorian maiden.

“Shut your mouth you _insensitive, selfish sac á merde_!"

Mick put a hand to his stinging cheek and stared in shock as Spy raged on. 

“You think I _want_ to be out here?! You think I _want_ to wait around for you to get back from whatever the hell it is you're doing?!”

Mick opened his mouth to protest, but Spy advanced on him, anger etched in every visible line of his face under the mask

“The day you decided that you couldn’t be responsible for yourself is the day that responsibility landed on ME!”

Spy closed in and Mick threw up his hands to protect his face, but he got a hard shove to the chest instead as Spy continued.

“Every time you disappear, _I_ have to be the one who feels guilty! _I_ have to be the one who wonders if you are going to come back again!!”

Mick tripped over something in the dark as he backed away, losing his footing and landing in the gravel of the parking lot. Spy didn’t stop, forcing him to either get trodden on or crawl. He chose the latter, scrambling backwards as Spy’s voice rose. 

“And you’re _right_!! I _DON'T_ want to care about you Sniper!"

Spy's hands clenched at his sides as he spat out his next words, "But to say to my _face_ that you think I do not?! That is either the biggest lie you have _ever_ told yourself or the worst insult I’ve ever received, and either way it makes me want to stab you through the heart!”

Mick’s back hit a dusty old streetlight making it flicker above him and stopping his retreat. Trapped and with nowhere to go, he lashed out instead as Spy entered the circle of light.

“No one asked you to look after me you nutcase!”

“ _YOU_ DID! You looked me in the eyes and _guaranteed_ that I would never go another day without thinking that _maybe_ there was something else I could have done!” 

Neither missed the break in Spy's voice as he reached the end of the last sentence, and Mick stared, speechless, at the glittering wetness in the corners of Spy’s eyes as he displayed the most emotion other than anger that he had in two years.

Apparently, Spy’s voice betraying him wasn't enough to stop him. “I don’t _care_ what you want, I am _never_ going to stop making certain that _I won’t have to be left feeling guilty next time!_ ” 

Both men froze, the lot went quiet, and the color drained from Spy’s face as his last words sank in. 

Mick felt himself go cold, everything suddenly feeling louder, bigger, closer. The air was more chilled, the little gravel cuts in his hands stung more, the familiar emptiness in his chest gapped open a little wider, his heart beat in his ears, and his vision went a little funny at the edges.

He didn’t even realize he was speaking until he heard his own voice. “Spy, what....?”

The words visibly jarred Spy back to earth, and he stepped away from Mick, demeanor changing in an instant. “No, I- Sniper, I didn’t mean-“

Mick's eyes stayed fixed on him as he backed away. “What... what are you sayin’?” 

Spy shook his head, looking slightly panicked. “No, Sniper, I-“

“You really spent all this time.... _waiting_ for a _next time_?”

“I... I don't..."

Something in Spy broke in that moment. All the pretense, all the anger, two years worth of pretending to be aloof. It all drained away for a moment. Something very dark and very sad and raw took its place.

“You... never promised me there wouldn’t be.”

Mick tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. It didn’t matter, he had to say _something_. “Spy-“

“Boys.”

Both mercenaries whipped around; Mick already shook out out his skin, Spy jumpy and shocked someone had managed to sneak up on him, panicked that it had been in such a vulnerable moment. 

The RED Engineer, looking extremely tired in more ways than one, stood on the edge of the circle of light bathing the scene. He breathed a slow and heavy sigh, then walked purposefully to Spy and put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a pointed look and moving him a single step away from Sniper, breaking the air of the fight without saying a word. He patted Spy's shoulder before turning to Sniper on the ground, offering a hand and nodding for him to get up. 

Mick took it and stood, wiping the gravel from his hands onto his pants. He and Spy both waited for the mechanic to speak like children in trouble, too pent up from ebbing adrenaline to do much else.

Engie clasped his hands together in front of him, keeping his demeanor calm. “Whatever’s going on out here -and I ain’t gonna lie now, I heard a a good bit of it- now is not the time.” He spoke slowly, seriously, demanding their attention be kept on him and off of each other. 

“It’s late, and I think both you boys need some space right now. Spy, just come inside, alright? I’ll pour you a drink if you really want, just... leave it be."

"And Sniper?" Engie's gaze settled on the sharpshooter, as if assessing his state of being. When he seemed satisfied enough, he nodded to the camper. "Get some sleep, son. I better not hear that van of yours again tonight, you got that?”

Mick looked at the ground and gave a single nod. Somehow, being bossed around by Engie didn’t feel nearly as condescending as it could have. The Texan was right, but he didn’t try and sound cocky about it. He sounded tired and sympathetic more than anything, and Mick was too rattled to try and continue any sort of conversation right now. 

Spy was still staring at Mick, looking like a sad balloon with a big hole skewered through it. Like he had so much more to say, but no motivation to say it, so he just let it leak away. He didn’t move until the Engineer patted his shoulder again, gesturing for Spy to follow him back to the base. Mick glanced at the entrance and saw the RED Medic leaning in the doorway, wrapped in a bathrobe, watching from afar.

Shit. They really had been that loud, then. He wondered if there was anyone at the base that _hadn’t_ heard them. 

“Engie,” Mick called after him as he and Spy headed toward the base. ”I... I’m sorry.”

The engineer waved the apology away, and Mick couldn’t tell if it was to excuse him or tell him not to bother. Either way, it left him feeling more alone than he had in a long time as he watched them walk away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song playing in Spy's car is Hymne á l'amour by Édith Piaf

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [DaA-12](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939291) by [Alima_Kle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alima_Kle/pseuds/Alima_Kle)




End file.
